


Shadowside

by elfin, Macx



Series: Shadowside [4]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfin/pseuds/elfin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out as a quite normal search for a mutant Charles discovered through Cerebro. It was supposed to be easy. It wasn't supposed to nearly separate the anchor line between Charles and Erik... or leave Erik fighting for his life and Charles for his sanity...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dr. Cecilia Reyes is not an OC. She is a canon Marvel character used in X-Men. She has no codename.

It was a dump. Well, not completely, but he had been in smaller towns that had been more inviting than this one. No one had laid hand on any of the main street buildings for a long time. It showed in peeling plaster and old brick. With a little bit of paint and sweat this would probably look like some cozy mid-west town, but now it was nothing but a dusty place Charles had insisted they make a stop-over.

Erik got out of the car, stretching. His muscles felt knotted from driving for such a long time and he was actually glad to get some rest, but here?

“Really?” he said, raising his brows at his companion.

Charles shrugged. “It’s better than the last one.”

Which, sadly, was true. The last town had consisted of five houses, an ancient church, a graveyard that looked like no one had dared die here for a very long time, and an abandoned gas station.

Charles looked around, then nodded at the lonely diner. He was dressed in a woolen suit jacket, a grayish-blue kind of thing, over jeans and a light blue shirt. The top buttons were undone. He looked like a professor on a roadtrip; which was actually true. Erik had opted for casual black pants, a black shirt, and his well-worn leather jacket.

They had coffee in the diner and from the look of things, not many people came through.

“Not since they built the new highway,” the waitress answered their question. “Not like there’s a lot to see. And with the whole ghost stories…”

She shrugged.

Charles perked up. “Ghosts?”

She laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. “You know. Abandoned house, ghostly sightings, noises at night. No wonder people leave. It’s not like it was before. Soon this place will look like Happy Bay, a few miles back. You passed through it.”

Charles nodded, clearly interested in the ghost stuff. Erik rolled his eyes and dug into his food, which was surprisingly good. Then again, he had never been someone to turn down food of any kind; to survive you ate what you had to. He had never developed a taste for finer things.

“Not every urban legend is a mutant, Charles,” he told his partner when they were on their way again two hours later, tank full of gas, stomachs full of food, and Erik feeling more awake.

“But some are,” the telepath argued.

“We’re not even close to the coordinates.”

Charles fell silent, gazing at the monotonous landscape passing by outside. The plan had been to fly from New York, but things hadn’t worked out that way. Sure, they had flown, but the plane had had to make a detour because of the weather and land two hundred miles from their designated airport. Apologies had been uttered and Charles had managed to procure them a car. Paid by the airline.

Erik had grinned like a madman, despite his lover’s reassurances that he hadn’t influenced the airline representative in any way.

Now they were in the middle of nowhere, heading for ‘end of the world’. Normally he went out with his team to check matters, but Charles had insisted to come along this time. And who was he deny his lover that? Part of him was happy to have the other man along, liked the closeness, the warmth of just being with Charles. It was a reminder of their first recruitment trip, a time when he had yet to figure out that this man meant more to him than revenge and hatred and Sebastian Shaw.

Blue eyes looked at him and Charles smiled. Damn the man for being so receptive! And damn himself for broadcasting!

“You’re not,” Charles said quietly.

“But you’re peeking.”

“Not really, no.”

Erik sighed and just about caught the sign that told him to take the next road to their left, heading for the mountain road. In about three hours they should be close to the Canadian border where Charles had said he had found another mutant he wanted to talk to. A strong signal, he argued.

In the middle of nowhere, take a right at the last sign, drop off the planet.

Erik felt something move away from him, like sliding out of his immediate reach, and he quickly grabbed Charles’ left wrist with his right hand, squeezing.

::No:: he sent strongly.

It got him a confused look.

“I didn’t say I mind,” he clarified. ::You being close::

The telepath brightened a little, but there was still a guarded expression Erik didn’t like. He stopped the car and turned to look at the other man.

“I don’t mind, Charles,” he reiterated slowly. “It’s actually… nice.”

He grimaced at the word. Nice wasn’t the one he had been looking for. It was so much more than nice. Having Charles, being his anchor, it was the most trust anyone had ever placed in him. Xavier trusted him with his sanity, not just his life.

::I understand:: Charles replied quietly, a warm weight upon his mind, embracing him.

Did he?

::I do::

Erik briefly closed his eyes, fighting to stay calm, opening himself. The warmth increased, made his stomach flutter, and when he looked at Charles again, the telepath gazed back he couldn’t but lean forward and catch his lips.

Reluctantly he finally let go to get them back onto the road. Charles smiled; that knowing, loving smile.

Erik forcefully ignored it, but the touch was still there. Grounding, calming, there.  
And he didn’t mind at all.

* * *

Shadowside Creek was bigger than Erik had expected. It was actually quite large and clearly lived from the tourists coming in winter to go skiing and the hikers in summer. There was an expensive looking hotel right in the middle of town and Charles was all for getting rooms there.

“It’s your money to burn,” Erik only said, but he wasn’t objecting.

It didn’t take them more than a gentle suggestion from one road-weary telepath to have a nice, big room, as well as reservations for two more for the rest of the team. Charles would have made it three if Blu actually did sleep in a bed.

“You really need to get him house broken one day,” Erik teased when they went upstairs to inspect their lodgings.

“He prefers the outdoors.”

The last time Charles had heard of Reaper, Hayes and Blu they had been stuck at the airport due to the bad weather front, and from the brief forecast they had caught in the lobby of the hotel, that weather was heading their way. It would be hours, maybe even a day or two until they could join the two men.

“So, battle plans?” Charles asked when he had dumped his bag.

Erik looked around the luxurious room and cocked an eyebrow at Charles. This was the best they could get here and it was more than he had ever been treated to in a hotel. Soft, accentuated color, a carpet you could sink into, a gigantic bathroom with a separate shower and a bathtub, the bedroom set off with another set of doors, so the main room was more like a living room, and a view of the mountains. There was even an open fire place.

“You want another room?” Xavier teased, grinning.

“No,” he answered slowly. “Just checking on your sanity. This will cost a fortune.”

Not that Charles couldn’t afford it, but Erik was pragmatic in this. The money was better spent on food and resources than on this.

“We’re off season. The rates are reasonable. And we got a discount.” Charles winked.

“You’re scaring me, my friend. When did you decide to walk outside the law?”

“When I got to know you.”

Erik laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling Charles close. He kissed him.

“You’re spoiling me, professor,” he murmured.

“So, plans?” Charles asked, still grinning, looking so at ease, so relaxed, Erik wanted to do nothing more than to lock the room and show this man just how much he loved him.

“The usual. Get to know the lay-out, find the mutant, talk to him or her,” Erik listed and released the smaller man from his embrace. Business first. “You know the drill as well as I do.”

“With the one difference that this time I have a hard time catching a blip from this mutant now that we’re so close. I know he’s here. It’s just…” He touched one temple with two fingers, his usual way of focusing. “It’s wavering in and out. One moment I get a strong enough signal, then it’s lost.”

Erik frowned.

Charles closed his eyes, again pushing two fingers against his right temple, scanning. He tilted his head as if listening to something, then frowned.

“Weird,” he murmured. “Strong, then hiding, then strong again. It’s like… the signal splits apart, regroups, then splits again.”

Erik watched him like a hawk, taking in every twitch, listening to the timbre of the words. He knew his lover by now; very well, actually. He could read more than just what he heard.

“Where?” he finally asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Well, that didn’t help.

Charles grimaced a little. “Sorry.”

Erik shrugged. “If you could pinpoint them like a bloodhound I’d be scared.”

It got him a small smile. They had been on enough such trips together for Erik to know that Charles needed to walk the area the mutant was in, looking left and right with that big brain of his, and they would find the one in question. It had always worked before. And lately he hadn’t had the luxury of a telepath bloodhound. They had divided their tasks on purpose and while it might take a little longer to find the mutants, he had yet to actually lose one. He could be very persistent.

Charles grabbed a handful of his black sweater and pulled him close. ::Yes, you are. And I enjoy us being here together::

Erik chuckled, getting clear images that had nothing at all to do with the search. “I knew there was a reason you insisted on coming along.”

“Because I miss you.”

Ah, hell, those out of the blue remarks again! Erik felt slightly off center, looking into the liquid blue eyes that held such depth, such emotions, and he felt it through the anchor link trickling into his mind.

He leaned down, kissing the other man, enjoying the soft feeling, the hands sliding around his waist, the nearness, the warmth, the completeness.

::Won’t find him this way:: he thought.

::It’s late::

He laughed softly against the moist lips. Yes, it was late. And there was this hideously big and soft looking bed with its equally hideously expensive linen.

Charles grinned.

“Picked up on that, hm?”

“It was hard not to.”

Erik looked at the bed again, very much aware of the ornate metal singing to him with every molecule.

Charles smiled innocently, but he was clearly aware of his thoughts.

“You really want to postpone the first exploration of this town in favor of us?”

“You really want to leave?”

Erik shuddered at the image in his mind, not clear if it had come from his lover or his own depth. Maybe both. Maybe something they both wanted.

Screw ‘business first’!

::Yes::

“You really think we can leave this bed if we start something now?”

Charles chuckled. “Care to find out?”

And he pushed Erik back onto the mattress, sliding on top. The other mutant grinned at his pushy lover. One snap of his fingers locked the room’s door, another pulled shut the heavy drapes that hung on ornate metal rings.

Outside a first shower came down heavily onto the mountain town.

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

By morning the weather had worsened and the small airport had been closed. Reaper and Blu were stuck as their plane hadn’t even taken off. Clouds churned in the sky, threatening more rain than had already gone down over the mountains last night. Two thundershowers had passed through, lightning in the sky, and Erik had enjoyed the forces of nature. Especially since he and Charles had been inside, in a very comfy bed, and dry.

Neither had heard of Hayes, but the young woman appeared at the hotel when both men were having breakfast.

“Got a private ride,” she explained with a wink.

Charles blinked, then turned back to his tea. ::Do I want to know?::

::Nope::

::Ah::

Hayes stole a slice of toast and grinned at Erik when he scowled at her. “So, what’s the mutant case?”

“We don’t know.”

She frowned, looking at them, then rolled her eyes. “Like bunnies,” she commented, chewing toast. “Now I know why he never takes you along, Prof. You’ll distract the boss.”

Erik hid his grin behind the coffee cup and Charles fought down the light blush of embarrassment. Blu smelling them on each other would have been preferable to this young mutant woman knowing exactly what they had been up to.

“Whoever it is, he’s… evasive,” Charles said instead, buttering toast.

“We’re going to have a walk-around,” Erik decided, “while the professor gets his brain sorted out.”

Charles frowned. Erik smiled back teasingly. Hayes groaned.

“Could you please not do that?”

Erik cocked an eyebrow, challenging her to go on.

Hayes caught that look, knowing it, and backpedaled.

“Okay. Cool.” She looked around the breakfast room. “I like the place. Might want to come back in winter for some skiing.” Hayes eyed the pancakes speculatively.

Erik quickly moved a knife to intercept her reach and she pouted. Charles flagged down the waiter and ordered another batch before he had to witness a breakfast fight over food.

Another rain shower kept them inside for most of the next hour anyway.

* * *

They had split up. Hayes had taken over the town center. Erik had widened his search pattern to include the currently silent and abandoned ski resort. He had been given a map from a local shop and was looking at a million miles of hiking trails with a grimace.

::You better get a location on the mutant, Charles, my friend. Or we’ll be here forever if he’s not in town:: he thought loudly.

::Believe me, I’m trying. There are around seven thousand people living in Shadowside Creek. I already have a headache from trying to find the one I touched through Cerebro::

Erik turned his attention inward, feeling slivers of worry. ::Charles…::

::I’m fine:: came the immediate reassurance.

It didn’t lessen the worry. Xavier was prone to overdoing it and sessions in Cerebro had shown Erik just how easy it was for the telepath to turn his brain into mush. Scanning so many minds to look for one elusive mutant was putting an additional strain on Charles. The anchor helped, but it wasn’t the solution for everything.

::Go easy::

::I will::

::Charles…::

::Erik, I promise. But this is not normal. I should be able to at least give you an area to look at::

Erik hesitated a moment, then awkwardly sent a hug, which resulted in a blossoming of warmth from Charles. He shivered at his own reactions, then quickly turned back to his search.

And the clouds didn’t look that promising either. Twice within two hours it had poured so badly, Erik had sought shelter underneath a roof. People were hurrying into shops and every time it let up, fewer people were on the streets. It was only noon and the sky looked like late evening.

Suddenly he caught sight of something. A movement at the corner of his eye. He was in an alley between a fast food restaurant close to the ski resort and a closed shop. Everything was wet and dark, the drip-drip of the last rain water coming from the roof the only sound. Erik felt his muscles tense, readying, and his eyes focused on the miniscule movement.

A small hand came into view, followed by a young face. Not exactly dirty, but no clean either. The hair wet and stringy. The clothes partially soaked. It was a young girl, of an age Erik couldn’t define, and she was moving stealthily to the dumpster behind the restaurant.

Street kid? he wondered. Here?

Suddenly the girl turned and looked at him, her eyes wide. And then she bolted.

He didn’t know why, but he ran after her, splashing through puddles, but when he rounded the corner she was gone. He saw a few people on the street, three with children on their hands, but no girl on its own.

::Erik?::

Picked up on that, hm? he thought without making it an actual communication.

::Hard not to. You were suddenly… intense. And I caught a blip from out mutant friend::

Erik frowned. ::Where?::

::From the images I got, close to the resort::

Erik looked across the road where the silent, closed down buildings stood. He frowned more, but he didn’t comment, nor did he want to draw conclusions.

* * *

Hayes was having a good time window-shopping down main street. While they were here out of season, a lot of the shops were open and had some very nice things. If she set her mind to it she could come back to the hotel laden with expensive clothes and jewelry, without having paid anything for it.

But she wouldn’t.

Hayes sighed dramatically. The sacrifices she made.

The trip through the stores wasn’t just for personal entertainment. She had been gathering information on the potential mutant, using her abilities to charm people into telling her just about everything.

What she got were tidbits that weren’t really useful. Mutants kept a low profile most of the time and the professor insisted that someone in this mountain resort town had abilities that had registered highly. What threw them off track was the fact that they had no idea if they were looking for an adult, a child, a man or a woman. That had never happened before.

For lunch Hayes decided on a small restaurant, talking with the waitress and two locals as she had a soup and homemade bread. From one of the men, who told her he was a ski instructor in winter and a mountain guide throughout summer, she heard some campfire-like stories about strange things happening in the woods sometimes. Hayes wanted to know more, but since he hadn’t seen anything, had only heard about it, there was no more intel to be gained.

With a sigh she paid and went on her way again. She still had a few places to check.

* * *

Erik had locked out Charles as he was used to doing when he was on a case. He wasn’t deliberately severing their connection, but he had gently placed a block between their minds. It had served them well in the past. Erik wasn’t surprised by a sudden mind-to-mind contact and Charles didn’t get backwash of strong emotions. That their connection had grown this close had surprised Charles and he had confessed so to Erik.

“Anchoring shouldn’t have that effect,” he had told his friend over a game of chess one night.

“How many telepaths and anchors do you know?” Erik had teasingly replied. “Aside from Emma Frost.”

Who was a bitch and a different kind of mutant. She had two completely separate abilities, who still played together. Her diamond form made her immune to another telepath’s influence, but it was also her battle form. To their knowledge, The White Queen had no anchor and also no use of one.

The remark had gotten him a contrite look. “I’ve never met someone like me.” Or you, he added.

Erik caught the addition and gave his lover a predatory smile. Charles had looked away, clearly fighting his response.

“So this is a bad thing?” Erik had asked, enjoying himself.

“No, not necessarily.”

No, it wasn’t necessarily bad. Especially in some situations. Very private and intimate situations. Erik wasn’t a telepath, just bound to one, and it was fun to explore those connections more deeply.

Drawing himself out of his musings he studied the map. There was an area that was marked ‘off limits’ for hikers. According to the lady who had given him the map this had been private land ages ago and the owner had died. No heirs. No one had taken a look at the property. And there were rumors of bad things happening there.

Erik shook his head. Ghosts and monsters. The best way to hide and keep the curious away.

Well, if the mutant was truly hiding from the world, the world might just have to come to him.

* * *

Charles had found a well of information in Lyell Barton, deputy of Shadowside Creek. The young man was happy to have someone to talk to about the mountain town. Charles didn’t even have to make up much of a story about himself; Barton assumed enough already. So nudging him a little into the right direction wasn’t that manipulative either.

What he heard were stories about bad spots in the woods where not even animals wanted to go. Hunters had their dogs turn tail and run. There was no game to be found. Hikers turned around for no good reason other than their gut feelings and the instinct that something was wrong.

Charles was shown the area and he found that it was a wide stretch of land, outside the ski resort, and privately owned.

“It’s been for sale for ages,” Barton told him. “No one wants it.”

Which was exactly why Charles thought the mutant was there. He was keeping the people away.

It was shortly thereafter, when he had bid the good deputy good-bye, that he caught a first whiff of their hiding friend. It was way past noon and Charles felt hungry, so he had been heading back to the hotel. They had a nice-looking restaurant there.

Stopping at a street corner he briefly touched his temple and sought out Erik along the anchor line. His partner answered easily and promised to check out the private land.

::Be careful:: Charles sent.

::Always. Just a quick recon, then we’ll meet up at the resort. Go have lunch. You feel  
starved::

He smiled. Of course Erik would pick up on that. Charles hurried into the restaurant, asking for a lunch to go.

* * *

The place was right out of a horror movie. Some low budget C-movie with too many effects, bad actors and a script that should have been burned.

Deep in the woods, an overgrown path leading to it, the cabin had probably once been nice to look at and someone’s home. Now it looked dark and foreboding. The shutters hung off their hinges, the roof appeared like it wouldn’t be up there for much longer, and the porch was a goner. Weed had overgrown the remains. A tree had been felled a long time ago and lay precariously across another, which was leaning toward the cabin.

Yes, Erik mused, a perfect setting for a movie. And probably a good hide-out as well.

He hadn’t seen anyone on his trek here and it was already getting later than he had wanted to stay out in the area. He was hungry – lunch had been two hot dogs – and the weather was getting worse again. A few drops had already hit his face and he knew that he would probably drown within the next hour if he didn’t get out of here.

But if the mutant was here, the least he could do was try to make contact.

He wondered what kind of mutation it was that pushed someone into such a lonely place. Physical, most likely. Disfiguring in the eyes of the non-mutants. Or maybe psychic like Charles? His lover had once told him a few things about too many minds, seeking out lonely spots and trying to get a hold on his telepathy. It hadn’t been pretty. The anchor line helped immensely and throughout the past four years Erik had slowly come to understand how much freedom it gave Charles to have his mind to fall back upon, to counterbalance his incredibly strong gift.

Idly cataloguing the amount of metal – not much, lots rusted – he stepped closer to the cabin.

“Hello?” he called, trying to sound friendly and look non-threatening.

Not that he had any illusion he could pull it off. He couldn’t shake the aura of a predator, of something dangerous. Aside from Charles there had never been anyone to so openly approach him, touch him – trust him. Even Raven had been respectful, even afraid, at first. Not to mention the others. It had served a purpose in the past and still did, but on cases where he needed to win someone’s trust it hindered.

It was why he had Hayes and Blu. Hayes looked like your average young American, all nice and pleasant. And Blu was a dog. A cuddly, fluffy, overgrown border collie. He could change into something even less harmless if he needed to, though the collie was his favorite. And Hayes, with her charm, could wrap most others around her little finger if she set her mind to it.

Neither of them was here.

Erik approached the cabin, then froze when he saw movement through torn-off window cover.

“Hello? My name is Erik. I’m just here to talk.”

And then he saw her. The child from the alley. Stunned, Erik looked into the wide brown eyes.

“Hey, kid,” he said, mind racing.

What was she doing here? In a place like that? Was she the mutant? This little girl? Or was she a street kid? A runaway? Was she playing here?

Erik couldn’t wrap his mind around the girl being on her own, completely on her own, in a place like Shadowside Creek. A place where everything was clean and wealthy and tourist-oriented.

“What’s your name?” he asked, trying to appear non-threatening.

The girl suddenly ducked back into the cabin.

And the biggest mistake he made was trying to follow her.

His first thought, ironically, was one of disbelief rather than of horror; the creature was an impossible thing – too big to be real, too sharp, too dark. It was an almost hysterical thought and it was his last one for a while.

The tension broke, the creature attacked. Razor claws on the ends of long, bony fingers took a swipe first at his neck, then at his body and he jumped back instinctively, but its reach went too far and it took three parallel swathes of skin out of his torso.

The pain was incredible, snatching the air from his lungs, blasting through him, red hot with an intensity that had him screaming. He looked down at himself, feeling a strange surprise at the sheer amount of blood, but he had precious little time to consider its meaning as those claws like blades ran through his left shoulder; breaking bone, tearing muscle, ripping sinew. The renewed agony was more than he was able to consciously deal with and his eyes filled with tears as his heart started to pound within the wreckage of his body.

He stumbled back but the creature closed up on him again, so close that all he could smell was its cloying stench, like old blood and sweat, and all he could feel was its blast-furnace heat burning his skin. He heard himself screaming, felt his body crying out, and the creature took one final flat-hand swipe, throwing him fifty feet or more into the trees behind him. He landed hard enough to knock the breath from him, hard enough to crack his skull on the ground, hard enough to knock him unconscious.

  
tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

Charles was in the lobby of their hotel when he first felt it; sharp enough, sudden enough, to make him cry out, to bend him double. With his mind ablaze he reached out, shouted silently through the connection to Erik's mind as he tried desperately to get a fix on a location through the explosion of fear that was partially his own.

But before he could find him, he lost him. He screamed and shouted in his own head, unaware of the people around him covering their ears, unaware of the hands on his arm and his back. As if from a great distance he could hear voices, but none of them belonged to Erik and through the nauseating birth of a migraine he kept reaching beyond even his own limits, hopelessly trying to find Erik until his body overrode his mind, shutting it down before it overloaded, and he collapsed to the marble floor.

* * *

He came round to soft rain on his face, mud sucking at his clothes, his lungs on fire, though he didn't quite make it to full consciousness. There were parts of his body that his brain had decided were better off remaining out of contact with his nervous system for the time being, so he felt hot, feverish, but not in anywhere near the amount of pain he knew he should be.

He had no idea where he was and for a while he lay in the mud and the undergrowth until he felt the unnatural heat start to leech from his body to be replaced by a bone deep chill. He knew then that if he didn't do something to help himself, he would die there, and for a time the prospect didn't seem too bad. He felt a strange peace saturating him. His life had been, for the most part, a tragedy. There were few who would mourn him for long. Even Charles seemed to have abandoned him, his mind was empty and for the first time in a long time, he was truly alone there.

  
 _You're not alone. Erik, you're not alone._

  
His eyes snapped open. Was that a memory or Charles speaking to him? He didn't know, but suddenly he had to move. If he did nothing and by some miracle still made it out alive, Charles would kill him anyway for giving up on him. He tried to sit up and that was when the broke bits of his body made themselves known. He let the scream out because there was no one around to hear him and it helped for a second or two. So he screamed again as he wrapped his right arm around his torn stomach because his left one wouldn't respond. When he lifted his arm away, it was covered in blood. Suddenly his whole body started shaking and he dropped back to the forest floor.

What was the point? He was dying, he'd probably already lost too much blood to survive. If he just closed his eyes everything would go black, the pain would go away, his whole shattered life would go away.

  
 _Don't spoil this for me, Erik._

  
Another memory opened his eyes, and he knew it was a memory because he could see the smile on Charles' face as they stood for the first time inside Cerebro. But it didn't matter because it reminded him that Charles definitely wouldn't be happy with this new Erik who quit when the going got tough and bloody.

Gritting his teeth, he started to test which parts of his body still responded without too much pain. His legs were okay, and one arm. That was going to have to be enough. Taking a deep breath, he reached out his good arm, clawed his fingers into the wet ground, and pushed himself to his knees. The pain ripped another scream from him and he remembered that it felt good to let it out, so he did it again, and again, screaming from the pit of his lungs each and every time he moved.

By the time he reached the tree line his trousers were ripped from cutting a path through the forest, his hand was bleeding and his throat was raw. But at least he'd found his way out, and five hundred yards more would get him to the derelict cabin in which the girl had been hiding, protected by that creature, the one that had appeared from nowhere to attack him. It didn't make sense that he hadn't seen it, then again, nothing was making much sense. All he knew was that he needed to get help and the only person around to help him here was himself. He'd survived alone in the past, he was going to now.

  
 _You're not alone._

  
Charles' voice in his mind, nothing but a memory, but it pushed him forward, pushed him on. He couldn't give up because leaving Charles without his anchor wasn't an option. For the first time in his life he had a motive for living besides revenge; he had someone who loved him, needed him, relied on him. He had to live, however badly his body wanted to die.

The ground was rough; dirt, patchy grass and small stones. His legs were starting to wobble, his balance was gone, he was bleeding to death. The cabin was his only hope and he'd make it any way he could.

When his knees turned to jelly, he knew the only way was to crawl.

With his left hand uselessly covering his stomach as if trying to hold his insides inside and his left shoulder radiating pain like fire, he moved an inch at a time, weight on his right thigh and hip, pulling himself across the space with his right hand, pushing with his right foot. He didn't feel like he had the strength to push even one of the stones that kept cutting into his flesh, digging up into the denim of his jeans but somehow he made it, dragging himself up the wooden steps to drop back hard against the door.

* * *

The silent scream echoed around the inside of his head. Maybe his scream, maybe the memory of Erik's before the link between them was so brutally severed. This was different to when Erik had been pulled through into the rift, when all Charles had felt at the end of his anchor line was a black hole that threatened to drown him in the despair and loneliness he'd experienced. This time the disconnection hadn't left a hole, it had left a jagged rip, a tear in his own psyche with edges sharp enough to cut himself, to bleed himself dry if he chose to.

It was death, the severance of a telepath's anchor line to a lost soul mate, and tears leaked from Charles' eyes even though he wasn't really conscious. Not yet.

And this wasn't death. He could feel moments of life, flashes of white-hot agony, relief from his own mind, terror and pain from Erik's, but at least it meant there was a chance of saving him.

Still too deep in his own mind to wake, Charles called to Erik, reaching out the way he would to any other mind, using his innate mutation rather than the intimate connection he was used to speaking to his lover through.

::Erik! Please! Where are you?::

But the flashes, when they happened, weren't enough to get a location, weren't even enough to tell Charles what had gone wrong. There were only enough to convince him that Erik had been attacked, that he was badly hurt. That he was dying.

He had to find him!

::Erik, answer me! Tell me where you are!::

Still nothing, and with every minute that ticked passed the flashes weakened, the pain of loss got stronger and more overwhelming, and Charles consciousness fought for its own survival by dragging him back to wakefulness, away from the dangerous injury to his mind.

He struggled, tried to stay close to the anchor point just in case Erik... but he was the telepath, not his lover. He was going to have to find Erik himself, Erik wouldn't be able to come to him now.

He was crying when he opened his eyes. There was a cool cloth on his head which he ripped away and threw across his room in a flash of grief and anger. He was grateful for the curtains closed against the sunlight, and the soft pillows under his head. The last place he remembered being was in the hotel lobby; someone had got him into his room and he knew he needed to be grateful of that too.

He sat up, too quickly, headache slamming hard against his optic nerve, turning his stomach.

For a moment he closed his eyes, willed his body to settle down. He was no good to Erik if he made himself sick. Tears ran down his face, streaming from his eyes. He didn't care, didn't try to stop them.

"Professor!" Hayes rushed over to him, obviously relieved to see him awake. "Professor?" he could hear her, see her, but all he could Do was stare, as if he'd lost some of the controls to his own body along with his vital link to Erik.

It's just grief, he told himself firmly, you can speak, you just don't want to talk.

He looked at her, opened his mouth, and finally managed to whisper, "He's gone. Erik's gone."

  
Hayes found herself ill-equipped to handle a hurting telepath. She was generally ill-equipped to handle injured or hurt people and so far their cases had never called upon her to play nurse. That was Reaper’s job. Even Blu was better at this than her. Give her a vault to break into or a reluctant target to charm, that was her strength.

Looking at the beyond-pale, crying man sitting on the bed, the mutant sighed softly.

What to do? Charles was their leader. Well, him and Erik. Now Erik was missing and Charles looked like he might be losing his mind. She had no idea how to get in contact with the other two members of their team. Reaper and Blu might be on their way but it was just as likely that they were stuck somewhere.

"Professor, do you know where he went?"

It occurred to her that Charles might not actually have meant 'gone'. He might have meant 'dead'. But that was unthinkable.

“Professor?” she tried again tentatively when he didn't answer her first question.

But he just continued to stare at her as if he was trying to work out who she was. Or maybe he was testing to remember who he was.

Getting Xavier up here had been a stretch on her abilities and she had charmed several hotel employees into getting the suffering telepath in here, then sweet-talked them into leaving them alone and not calling the police. Afterwards she had felt a headache of her own and she had been close to breathless.

She knew, as well as everyone else at the Xavier Institute, about the relationship between the two leaders. Actually, when Hayes had joined it had been strong and ongoing for a while. She found they made a handsome pairing and watching them had given her a good insight into their workings as a couple. Whatever had hit Erik, it had severely ricocheted into Charles, knocking him senseless.

But what? Had he found the mutant? If yes, what the hell kind of mutation could do this? Another telepath?

Maybe, she supposed. A telepath who had knocked Erik out? But Charles’ reaction had been one of sudden, expected and intense pain. Would a telepathic attack on Erik do this to Charles?

She glanced at him. There were lines of pain on his handsome face, and his tears we falling steadily. Hayes chewed her lower lip.

What else was there? Physical attack?

Something cold settled in her stomach.

Who or what might have attacked their team leader? Erik was powerful, dangerous, a survivor. There was metal everywhere and he could fight back with just a tiny flick of his finger or a stray thought. She had seen him wield his abilities with a finesse that had left her breathless. He also never went unarmed.

Sooo… Hayes’ brows drew down as she continued to chew her lip. So if something attacked Erik it had been somewhere he couldn’t defend himself. No metal. Or not enough. Too sudden.

Moving to stand in front of Charles, she gently covered his hands in his lap and squeezed his fingers. He looked up again but he didn't seem to even be seeing her any longer, like he was only seeing whatever was in his own head.

“Prof?”

Up close she saw to her dismay how bloodless he appeared, like he was going into shock. Just what she needed! She had no idea to help him!

“Charles?” she tried again, gentle and letting some of her charm bleed into her voice. “Charles, please, I need you to help me. Where is Erik? Where was he last?”

Carefully she reached out and touched one slender hand to his cheek, just the fingertips on cool skin.

“Charles, darling,” she tried again, voice smoother, rich and going deeper into his consciousness. “You know where he went, right? Tell me. I can keep a secret. Share it with me.”

Her head throbbed faintly and Hayes knew she was overdoing it, trying to influence the strongest mind this planet knew. Charles was incredibly powerful and her piddly-ass powers were nothing in comparison. She had only once tried it and gotten a migraine for a day.

Back then he had been conscious and rather amused at her attempts. Now there was no amusement.

“Charles,” she cajoled. "Please. I need your help here."

Charles replayed his memories, the few moments before the pain had crippled him in the middle of the hotel lobby, tried to see what Erik had seen, if Erik had given him anything, however small, to go on.

There was something; the scent of trees after rain, a wooden cabin. He needed more! The fifth time through, he caught it. Just before the first burst of pain, there was surprise, shock, horror... a monster! Huge, black, with teeth and claws, razor sharp knives cutting through the air, cutting through flesh...!

Pulling himself back from the anchor again, he focused with difficulty on Hayes, standing in front of him looking scared and helpless.

“A cabin," he told her, swallowing hard. His throat felt too dry. “And a monster."

He saw in her expression that she didn't believe him, that she thought he was losing his marbles and she might have been right but he knew without a doubt what he saw in his memory, what Erik saw for real.

"I'm telling you the truth," he tried to sound sane, tried to keep calm. "Erik's been attacked by a monster." He needed her to believe him, relieved when he felt her do just that.

“Where?” she asked him steadily. "Where is the cabin? Because I'm no detective, Prof. I need help. And my help is probably still stuck somewhere in Butthole or Armpit or whatever.”

He watched her rake slender fingers through her hair. He'd told her everything he knew. But it wasn't going to be enough. They needed more. They needed local knowledge.

"Go and ask the concierge," he suggested, thinking his way through the beginning of the inevitable migraine. He could feel her trying to decide if leaving him alone was a good idea. "I'm not going to do anything stupid," he chided, "just go."

It was the push she needed and promising him she'd be less than ten minutes, she left the room. Charles closed his eyes, swiped at his wet face with the backs of his hands, and dropped back across the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time he reached the wooden steps of the cabin, Erik thought he might pass out. He was hot and cold at the same time, sweat dripping into his eyes from the effort of getting there, limbs trembling like a newborn fawn. He’d tried calling to Charles, using their connection, knowing he could do it under ideal circumstances, but these were far from ideal and his head felt like a quagmire, he couldn’t focus a single thought. It scared him to think he might have damaged their connection somehow, because he hadn’t felt Charles seeking him out and the idea that he’d left his lover without an anchor, he wasn’t sure what the consequences of that would be for either of them.

He tried not to think about that because losing Charles didn’t bear thinking about. Somehow he made it up the steps, stumbling on the first one, falling hard onto his right knee, jarring his shoulder. Blinking tears of exhaustion from his eyes he dragged himself to the door, reaching for the handle, leaning his weight on it. It stayed shut, locked. His resolve to live crumpled as he did, dropping heavily back against the door and sliding down it, stretching out his aching legs. Looking down at his ripped shirt and torn flesh, hysterical laughter bubbled up from his throat. He tried to think clearly, to work out what to do, but his thoughts kept slipping away from him like oily rags and the laughter choked its way out of his throat. He tasted the metallic tang of blood between his teeth and something clicked open in his head. Then the lock followed suit and the door opened behind him, tipping him backwards into the murky damp cabin.

That he hadn't used the abilities that had been an extension of him for all of his life turned him cold, scared him more than his injuries, chased away the madness and gave him a few moments of lucidity. The legs were still out on the steps, the metal threshold digging into his back. The boarded floor his top-half was lying on was filthy. His head had bounced off something rubbery which had gone skidding across the floor, cutting a shallow path in the dust and dirt. The cabin stank of damp and sewage and the stench hit him hard, made his stomach roll when the last thing on earth he wanted to do was throw up; he wasn't sure what, if anything, would stay in place. So he swallowed the bile and forced himself to sit up, screaming at the pain, taking deep gulps of forest air before turning back to survey the gloom.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he started to get his bearings. A pile of blankets, maybe the girl's bed, was under the front window. Carefully he shifted across the splintered floor on his ass, pulling his legs inside, going just as far as he needed to until he could lean over and make a grab for the corner of the blanket. With considerable effort, he ripped it in half, wrapping one half around his torso as tight as he was capable of doing, yelling out with every tug in a million screaming nerve endings. He tore the ends and tied them off, although it wouldn't be long before his bleeding wounds would glue the material in place. And then he would have two, maybe three hours before he passed out from blood loss or infection from the makeshift bandage.

He felt the hysteria rising again, face contorting in a rictus of agony, and again he tried to organize his jumbled mind enough to find Charles.

There was a flash, just a moment of bright white light, and he shouted at that point in his head as loudly as he was mentally able. Then it was gone, leaving him wiped out and as close to despair as he could ever remember being.

* * *

Ten minutes were all Hayes needed to grab a bottle of Coke, a bucket of ice and charm the concierge into giving her every little bit of information she wanted. Something stronger would have been better, but Hayes knew she needed a clear head. And maybe it would help the professor, too.

Returning to the room she dumped the map from the concierge on the sideboard. Charles was on his back on the bed, eyes closed, looking for all the world like he was asleep. She wasn't sure, but she didn't disturb him right away.

She poured herself a glass of Coke, Taking some ice cubes and running them over her forehead where the headache was starting. After a few minutes she wrapped some ice in a towel and sat on the next to his head, touching it to his forehead, tried to ease Charles’ pain. If she had a headache, she knew he must be fighting off a migraine.

He moved under her touch but didn't bat her away. His eyes blinked open and to her relief he appeared more lucid.

“Professor?”

He didn't respond.

“Professor, I need your help on this! I can’t find Erik alone.”

She took the glass, drank again, then held the mostly empty container over her face for him to see.

“You also need to drink something. I know it’s not tea, but this will help. Trust me.”

With a painful, deep breath, he sat himself up and reached for the glass, swallowing what remained.

"My head hurts," he told he and she nodded.

"I know. But you said Erik has been attacked by a monster..."

She tried to keep her scepticism out of her voice, pointlessly, all things considered.

There was the barest amusement in his voice when he asked, "You don't believe me."

"Of course I believe you. However insane it sounds, I believe you. Was it the attack that took you out?"

He nodded once, a mistake apparently because he pressed his palm to his forehead and groaned.

"Come on, Prof, stay with me. You taught me it’s mind over matter for us. You can do this. You have to do this."

He gave her a pointed look through eyes that screamed pain. It made her think that perhaps there was nothing to do. "He is alive, isn't he?"

She regretted it immediately, watching more tears fall, his crying seemingly beyond his control.

"I think so," he managed, voice choked. "I think he went looking for the mutant."

“Where?”

It was a long couple of minutes before he said, "A cabin."

“You said so before,” she told him, feeling herself reach out and try to push him into telling her.

A dry chuckle had her pull back. It sounded broken, bad, not at all like Charles Xavier.

“You felt that, hm?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Tells me you’re taking control. What cabin, Charles?” she pushed again.

He turned to look directly at her and again Hayes was stunned by the pain she could see there.

“I got trees. Nothing more. A cabin and trees.”

She felt her shoulder slump a little. “I talked to the concierge. Nice guy. Very talkative. He said there are about a million cabins in the woods. The ski resort has cabins. I have a map, but they’re all over the place.”

Erik couldn’t have gone too far. He had been on foot. If they could get a direction, if Charles could tell her something he had seen; something like a landmark…

Looking at the distraught man, Hayes knew without using her ability that he'd told her everything he knew.

* * *

::Charles?::

Erik stared up at the wooden ceiling, trying to shake the feeling that he was being watched, trying to somehow fix the anchor line, to speak to Charles. It was difficult trying to pin down a single, coherent thought, trying to form a string of sensical words. But the pain of his own body felt strangely distant now. He felt like a tourist on an unpleasant trip.

::Charles!::

Shouting at a particularly sore spot in his own head didn't feel like a great idea even to him, even in his state. Charles was going to kill him anyway if his lover found him before he died.

::I'm sorry, Charles::

Sorry for striking out on his own, for being so arrogant that he imagined he was invincible against any other mutant. This one, if indeed it was a mutant, was more powerful than anything they'd ever encountered before. More powerful than he was anyway. What he'd been thinking he did not know. He'd accused Charles once of arrogance, and he'd been proven right. But Charles had fixed his mistake, albeit not without consequences. The psychic strain, the overload to his mind, had led to him seeking a mental anchor and he'd chosen Erik. Not that he'd had much choice, but Erik hoped Charles didn't regret it. Even now. Even if he died here.

::I am so sorry::

But what rights did he have to call Charles arrogant; the world's most powerful telepath, someone who could kill a person with a single thought, convince their brain to quit breathing, their heart to stop beating. Not that he ever would. Charles would rather get hurt himself than see another person hurt, human or mutant. Not that he was any kind of coward. If someone he loved was threatened, Charles would retaliate, protect, kill if he had to, if that was the final and only option. Who was he to call someone with that kind of power arrogant? He was the arrogant one, assuming he was unbeatable when his command over metal had proven so utterly useless in the face of such brutality as he'd faced here.

::Forgive me, Charles. And please, please find me::

All this thinking was getting him nowhere. The anchor line had been damaged. He could only hope Charles hadn't been too. He could feel the darkness at the edges of his mind, blissful unawareness of pain and misery.

::I'm sorry::

He let the black crowd in, let himself lose consciousness.

* * *

Hayes chalked it up to the fact that she normally wasn’t in charge of missions and was better at taking care of only herself, caring only about her goals, and generally working alone. In the past year she had learned a lot about her abilities, as well as team work, but in a situation like this, knowledge went out the window fast.

It was why they trained, a nasty part reminded her coldly.

She bit it back. It had sounded a whole lot like Erik, who kept telling her that cockiness alone didn’t make for survival. She had been nearly thrown into jail for good because of it and only because Charles Xavier had taken an interest in rescuing mutants had Hayes stayed off the wanted lists and free.

With a severely compromised telepath on her hands and no back-up, her team leader god-knew-where and probably hurt, she had done what she could – but not thought of the logical next step.

That would have been to call home.

Hank was still working on some long-range communications device -- the first had died in a shower of sparks and electronic squeals when they had first given it a test run – and she had to use the phone in the room. Charles would probably kill her for running up a tab, but right now she didn’t care.

Hayes dialed the manor and prayed that someone would pick up.

It happened to be Harriet, their equally mutant housekeeper. Hayes tried to make herself sound half as lunatic as she thought she must be, but somehow she got the message across because next thing she knew she was talking to one of the other grown-ups at the mansion.

“Wait for us,” was all Riptide said.

Hayes hung up, looking over at the bed and found herself meeting intense blue eyes in a chalky white face. Whatever energy Xavier had left had been put into levering himself into a sitting position.

“We need to find Erik,” he whispered, voice rough.

“We should wait for…”

“He needs help,” Charles insisted and pushed himself up, only to fall against the bedside table and nearly crash. His eyes were screwed shut and he was panting, but when she touched him, he straightened.

Determination in every muscle, face pale and lined with what he had to be feeling, he faced her.

“He needs us,” he repeated.

Hayes swayed between rational thinking and emotional reaction. This was bad. Really, really bad. If Charles was affected like that… Erik was probably a mess, and she didn’t want to think about it.

“Please, Hayes. Help me find him,” Xavier begged. “He needs us. I can…” He shuddered. “It was bad,” he finally just said.

She closed her eyes, fighting with her inner instincts to run and let the others deal with it, then bit her lower lip. The brief pain jolted her into action.

She grabbed the car keys, then looked at the telepath. “Can you make it out of here and to the car?”

He nodded. The determination was by now burning in his eyes.

“Then let’s go.”

Wherever. Because they had a lot of ground to cover.

*

The car pulled away from the lot.

She couldn’t know that right at that moment, someone entered their hotel room.

The room was empty. The curtains draped closed. The bed was tossed and there was a still damp washcloth on the sheets.

Azazel looked around the silent room, brows drawing down in a frown. He pulled the long-distance communicator out of his pocket and thumbed a button.

“They’re gone,” he said.

“What?” McCoy’s voice came out of the tiny loudspeaker. “Where?”

“I don’t know.”

A colorful curse had him grin briefly. He walked around the room and stopped in front of the desk, tilting his head thoughtfully at the map.

“Looks like they went camping,” he commented.

“What are you talking about?”

He snapped the communicator off, took the map, and disappeared in a puff of quickly dissipating smoke.

  



	5. Chapter 5

He wasn't sure if he was awake, unconscious or dead. He could smell something sharp and metallic and a part of his mind registered that it was him; his wounds beckoning infected, his brain losing control of his body. He felt as if there was someone there with him, and thought it must be Charles, that Charles had found him. He tried to lift his hand, to bring attention to himself, but it didn't respond. He searched his head for his lover's presence, but all he found was confusion and sadness.

He was dying, and now the idea wasn't as comforting as it had been. Charles would be alone, left without his anchor, his lover, his best friend. Charles would be angry with him, would never forgive him for leaving. He had to get out of here, to save himself. To do that, he had to move. He tried to pull his arms back to lever himself up, but his left arm didn't seem to be there any longer and his right was too heavy to lift, as if concrete had been poured over it and set to the floor. He started to panic; if he couldn't move his arms he would never get out of here, he'd die on the cold, damp floor of this abandoned place. Charles would find his body and he'd be as broken as Erik was.

He struggled then, against the forces holding him down, against the weakness of his limbs, against the fire in his chest. But eventually he lost the fight, collapsed back down, tears leaking from his eyes. He couldn't move. He couldn't leave. He couldn't save himself.

In a far, dark corner of the cabin, the little girl watched the dying stranger as he twitched and moaned, but his movements were tiny, his sounds barely mews. She wondered if others would come and curled deeper into the shadows.

* * *

Taking a hurting telepath anywhere should be labeled ‘DON’T’ in blinking capital letters. Bright colors, too. But Hayes had never done it the conventional way all her life, especially after discovering her gift. Fat lot that did her right now.

Charles sat slumped in the passenger seat, eyes closed, visibly fighting nausea and pain. Getting him from the hotel room through the lobby and to the car had been adventurous, to say the least. It was an understatement. Hayes had never really inquired too deeply into the relationship between the two men, but she knew it was tight. What she was currently privy to was more than that, though.

They had been cruising through town and Charles had tried to concentrate on finding their missing team leader.

“Prof?”

She had stopped at the deserted resort and was consulting her map. There were half a dozen cabins here; a dozen more that were privately owned.

“I could need some help here. Any way to give me a hint as to where to go next?”

Charles opened eyes that were red-rimmed and filled with a shared pain no one could imagine. He looked out the window, then raised two fingers to his temple. Hayes watched, frowning, aware that he was using his abilities to scan the area.

What she didn’t expect was the way Charles’ face twisted in what appeared like pain, a gasp escaping his lips.

“Professor?”

He still scanned, fingers at his temple to help him focus, but his eyes remained screwed shut. His free hand lay clenched on his knee and he was started to breathe harder, almost irregular.

Hayes grew worried. This was real pain, physical pain, not some kind of migrainish backwash.

Then his eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide, and a scream escaped his lips. Hayes was too startled to react when the telepath threw himself against the passenger side door, falling out of the car and onto the ground.

“Shit!” she cursed and scrambled out the other side. “Shitshitshit!”

Charles lay curled up in the mud, the drizzle covering him in a fine sheen of water.

“Professor!”

Fists pushing against his eyes, Charles was desperately trying to breathe normally.

“Professor!” she tried again. “Charles, please, talk to me. You’re scaring this girl.”

He lowered his hands, red splotches on his face around his eyes. “Erik… I felt him… he’s hurt. Badly hurt. He’s… there’s something…”

“Do you know where he is?” she interrupted him, voice hard, pushing through the haze.

“Abandoned cabin. Private property.” He swallowed hard, shivering. “Not far.”

“Sure?” she asked.

“Mostly. The last images... were of something old. Broken.” Charles buried his head in his hands, nails digging into his scalp. “Cabin in the woods,” he managed, then groaned.

“Charles!”

Hayes reached out and curled a hand around one wrist to pull it away before he did any damage. She got a jolt, like a transfer, and briefly saw what looked like the movie set for a horror film. Old cabin, abandoned, muddy ground, broken trees.

She let go of his hands in shock and tried to steady herself. “Geez, professor, warn a girl!”

He was breathing hard. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Hayes closed her eyes. “Okay, no sweat.” She ran a hand over her hair. “Okay. Now… cabin. Old, rusty, bad horror-movie cabin.”

And it was getting dark. Not to mention the drizzle that was coming down. So much fun.

“You should stay here and…”

But Charles had already pushed himself to his feet with the help of the car. Hayes bit back a curse.

“Professor!” she called.

“I’m going, Hayes,” he told her, voice suddenly very hard and steady. His eyes were like granite. “He’s here and he needs my help. I’m going.”

And then he set off like a missile homing in on something. Hayes sighed deeply.

“Not what I signed up for!”

But she followed.

* * *

His dreams were of drowning, the welcome embrace of the water, the flood of his lungs, the darkness edging inwards from the corners of his mind. He wanted it, welcomed it. Then there were arms around his neck, dragging him back towards the surface, and the voice of an angel in his mind dragging him back towards consciousness.

Erik opened his eyes and groaned. He was hurt, he was dying. He knew it in his heart, but his mind wasn't ready to give up. He seemed to be clinging to the idea that Charles would find him, which was ridiculous, because if Charles was able to find him, he would have done it by now. Still, maybe in his last minutes he could finally allow himself to acknowledge the hope Charles had been to him ever since the moment he'd dived into the freezing ocean to save him.

There was a sound, no louder than a breath, but it caught on Erik's wandering attention and forced him to turn his head, to stare into the darkness of the cabin. He couldn't see anything, but somehow he knew she was there, the girl they'd been looking for, the girl who was responsible for his death. He tried to speak, but all that came out of his parched, raw throat was, "he-".

He couldn't even manage the full plea, which was pathetic really. He was pathetic. He wasn't worth saving. Finally it was all over and Charles would be free of him.

* * *

Charles didn’t know where he took the strength from to just walk. One step in front of the other, heading up a path that led deeper and deeper into the forest, away from the resort. He was dimly aware of Hayes following him.

His mind burned. Everything was a jumbled mess, originating from the severed strands of his anchor line. He had known the anchor would be dangerous, the permanent connection to another mind, but Erik had felt needed. Erik had been needed. Erik’s mind, as sharp and dark and complex and deep as it was, also represented safe haven. Erik was everything for the telepath that he had never had before.

He was safety and protection and he was strength.

Charles smiled thinly.

Born out of necessity, Charles had taken what he had needed from Erik who had been unaware of it at the time. He had needed the counterbalance, the rawness of Erik’s anger and rage, the control he exuded, the coldness and sometimes even the ruthlessness. They were good together; balanced.

Now he was alone and for the first time in four years he felt off kilter. Not even before Erik had he ever been hit this bad this fast. He wasn’t even aware of Hayes’ mind, the wound burned so badly.

The brief moment of contact with the familiar mind had nearly been the final blow. Casting around to find any trace at all to follow, to find Erik, he had encountered pure agony. Never in his life had he ever touched something like this. Maybe because it had been Erik; Erik’s pain; Erik’s familiar mind that was in such agony… Charles didn’t know. He had only been able to scream, part of him taking in the information the contact provided, but a huge part was simply overwhelmed and wanted nothing more than to shut down.

But he couldn’t.

Erik needed him.

::Erik?:: he tried again.

The answer was a cold, cutting pain that had him stumble and flail, hitting a tree with one shoulder. Hayes caught his elbow and he sobbed with relief when her mind cooled down the fever in him.

“Professor, please,” she begged.

But Charles couldn’t stop. Erik was here, he was hurt. Badly, badly hurt. He needed help and Charles needed to find him.

Blinking into the falling dusk Xavier tried to get his bearings. Hayes uncertainly looked at her map, then at the path.

“This is private land, professor.”

He pushed away from the tree, nearly tripping over an exposed root.

“Professor!”

::Erik?:: he tried again.

It hurt. It was like walking on glass with your bare feet. It was excruciating and he should be able to switch if off if he only put half a thought to it, but to sever everything…

Charles balled his hands into fists.

He couldn’t. Complete separation was out of the question. He could use the failing anchor line to find his partner and he would do it, no matter the migraine to come. Homing in on the faint pulse that was Erik he stalked down the path, Hayes in tow.

* * *

He saw it as a blinding flash of light, a flash from the severed connection with Charles, like a sparking electric cable. His conscious mind wasn't aware, but unconsciously he picked up on it and his mind played out a couple of memories; Charles smiling at him over the chess board and a couple of dry gin martinis, Charles' face close enough to kiss him, Charles' thoughts mingled with his own; that sense of belonging, of warmth and of safety. And strength.

Charles was gone from his mind, but what they were together remained, and Erik began to draw on that. He knew Charles would be tearing the planet apart searching for him, he just needed to stay alive long enough to be found. While his conscious mind remained trapped in nightmares and pain, his subconscious willed him just to keep breathing.

* * *

Hayes looked at the cabin, feeling a shiver run down her spine. She had never liked horror movies and this was too much of one. With dark approaching and the rain still coming down, the mud squelching under her boots and the dead trees, this was way out of her comfort zone.

Charles was next to her, one determined telepath who didn’t know the word ‘stop’. Hayes had never had anyone mean that much to her. She had always been better off alone. Relationships meant risks; in her past line of work risks needed to be minimized. Even now, at the school, she wouldn’t elevate anyone to the level of close friend. Trust was never lightly given and if she trusted anyone at all, it were Xavier and her own team.

This whole situation she didn’t trust.

“Professor, I’m getting some really bad vibes from this,” she said.

A low level empath, she didn’t sense matters as clearly as a full empath would, but she had vibes. They had served her well in the past. Now she was close to turning tail and running. Only one thing kept her here: Charles Xavier.

“Something’s here,” Charles said, voice sounding strained.

“No kidding.”

He touched his temple with two finger tips. “It’s still not clear. I can’t touch the mutant. But…” He cried out and doubled over, hand scrabbling against the bark of a tree. “Erik!”

And then it was there.

Huge and impossible and roaring. Hayes fell back with a cry of surprise. She had never seen anything like this. She couldn’t describe it.

Charles was breathing hard, fingers digging into his scalp. A low moan left his lips.

“Professor!” she screamed and tackled him when the thing swiped at the defenseless man.

Bark rained down over them. They rolled through the mud and came up hard against another tree.

“We gotta get out of here! Now!”

The monster hissed, lumbering toward them.

“It’s not real.”

Hayes stared at him as if he had lost his mind. The thing looked very real to her, gigantic and evil and smelling bad. It was slobbering and flexing impossibly sharp claws, just looking for a new victim.

Charles was looking at the thing with feverish blue eyes as he stumbled to his feet. “I can’t feel it, Hayes. It’s not there!”

“Professor… I can see it. I can smell it! It’s right there.”

But Charles apparently didn’t hear her. All that kept him upright was the tree at his back and he was staring at the slobbering beast with confusion. Then he looked past it and blinked again.

“Erik?”

Damnit, he was losing it again!

“We don’t mean any harm. Please… Let me see Erik?”

What the…? He wasn’t looking at the thing. He was looking at the cabin. That derelict thing that looked close to a collapse.

“Please,” he whispered, sounding broken. “You can go. Just go. But let me see him.”

The monster rumbled, knife-like talons flexing.

Hayes swallowed hard.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Jumping into an unknown situation, not knowing what to expect, gave Azazel a surge that was hard to explain. He was a warrior, he enjoyed the fight, but he wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t survived for so long by taking unnecessary risks. But he was also skilled enough to use his abilities on a level no other teleporter would probably ever reach. He didn’t need to see where he went; he just went.

When he appeared in front of the cabin, blades ready, he had a fraction of a second to be surprised by his opponent, then the sharp weapons flew at the creature hovering over Charles Xavier. He had seen Hayes to one side, face chalky white, eyes wide, but she appeared unharmed. As did the professor, though he looked close to a collapse.

With a modicum of surprise Azazel witnessed the blades bite into the flesh of the creature, pass through, and draw no blood. There had been hardly any resistance, one that would come from hitting muscle and bone. It was like slicing through jelly.

The creature, for all its impressive bulk, swung around with a howl and Azazel blocked a swipe that jarred his shoulder.

It was powerful!

He narrowed his eyes, tail whipping behind him, attacking once more. He was an expert swordsman and had yet to meet anyone who could best him – aside from a metalbending mutant who could pluck the blades from his hands. But even without his weapons Azazel was a formidable warrior and hand-to-hand combat against a human was no challenge.

Again the blades struck home, but they didn’t do any damage.

The creature snarled and lunged at him.

Azazel popped out of existence in a whisper of red smoke and the smell of brimstone, reappearing above the thing in the trees. It was lumbering below him, clearly looking for its target, but not aware of him above. He twirled the blades to face forward, readying to ram them into the massive neck below him.

::Azazel, wait::

The voice was weak, tremulous, and he wouldn’t have recognized it as Xavier’s if not for the mind-touch. He narrowed his eyes at the man leaning haphazardly against a tree not far away from his elevated position. The telepath was in no condition to assess the situation.

::It’s not real:: Xavier added, the mind-voice sounding labored. ::Projection::

That had the red-skinned teleporter prick his ears. A projection? A very solid and real projection, if he was any judge.

::It’s not real. The mutant… whoever he is… he brings it to life::

So all he had to do was take out the mutant.

::No! Wait! Please don’t…::

Azazel did stop, but only to assess the situation once more.

 

  
Charles was at the end of his rope, but he knew he was needed. Erik needed him. He knew the creature wasn’t their enemy, that it was a defense mechanism, and that their real opponent was somewhere inside the derelict cabin.

As was Erik.

He shuddered, the anchor hurting so badly, all he wanted was to throw up, collapse, never get up again…

::Erik?:: he tried, but his fractured mind was unable to penetrate the wall between them.

Unconscious, part of him murmured. Erik was unconscious. That was why he couldn’t touch him by mind.

The creature snuffled, having lost Azazel when the teleporter had disappeared, and he looked into its inhuman eyes.

Not real. He felt nothing from it.

::I know you’re in there:: he projected at the mutant inside the cabin.

He felt the presence, somehow blurred and unfocused. Shielded, maybe? By the projection?

::Please… we never meant any harm. We’ll leave you alone if that is what you want. Just let us get Erik…::

The creature bellowed, shuffling closer to the cabin, the spines on its back bristling.

Charles felt tears brim in his eyes.

::Please…::

Someone touched his arm and it was like a bucket of cold water to feel another psychically talented mind so close. Hayes was only a low-level empath, but at the moment she was a lot stronger than he was. And a lot more coherent.

“Professor… It’s no use. Let Azazel get Erik out. We can’t fight this.”

It spoke of his declining state that he hadn’t considered that an option. Charles held on to Hayes like she was his lifeline.

::Find Erik:: he told the teleporter high above in the trees.

Azazel response was his disappearance.

The monster screamed, whirling around and moving toward the cabin at a speed that was not natural. It also shouldn’t be possible for the bulk of the creature to pass the door like it did, without ripping it off its hinges or bringing down the whole cabin.

 

 

 

He appeared in the cabin in near-silence, swords ready. Everything around him was old, rotten, falling apart. The roof was leaky and dripped water onto the fungus-covered floor. Through the cracks in the walls he saw sketchy forest. It was dark and silent.

Except for the raspy breathing and a soft moan.

Azazel’s eyes narrowed and found the source of the noise. Erik Lensherr. The human mutant was in a terrible shape, covered in his own blood, seriously injured, and hanging on to consciousness with a strength that surpassed what Azazel had thought him capable off. Then again, he had underestimated this man once before and nearly paid for it. He would never do it again.

The gray eyes widened a little as the red-skinned mutant stepped closer. Bloodless lips moved, whispering his name.

Azazel grinned. “Rescue squad.”

The creature screamed and suddenly filled the doorway, pushing in. It shouldn’t physically be possible to get through without tearing down the whole cabin, but it was oozing in. There was no better word for it.

Azazel knew it was no use fighting this thing, whatever it was, at least not with swords. He might have tried to teleport it to great height to let it drop above the ground, a body of water, a volcano… but right now he had a different order.

He unceremoniously lifted the semi-conscious mutant into his arms, drawing a cry of pain, then jumped. Just before he disappeared he thought he saw a girl hiding in the corner, wide eyes on him, then he was outside.

Azazel reappeared with the now unconscious Erik in his arms and Charles nearly threw up for real now. For a brief second he saw terrible wounds, blood and shredded clothes, then he was grabbed and the sensation of the teleport washed over his already stressed-out mind.

Erik was unconscious, a dead weight in his arms when he reappeared, and the moment Xavier laid eyes on his partner, the telepath seemed to break down like a puppet without strings. Hayes gave a cry of alarm, trying to catch his fall, but she was too slow.

The monster wasn’t.

It was there. Impossibly close and looming, a stench rolling off it that had even Azazel gag.

How? How could it have reappeared so quickly? It had just pushed-oozed into the cabin!

Hayes grabbed one of Charles’ wrists, curling her free hand around Azazel’s tail.

“GO!” she screamed, terror in her eyes.

And he went.

* * *

The mansion’s medical wing was equipped to deal with all kinds of mutant-power-related accidents and injuries. When Azazel appeared, carrying a bloody Erik, Hayes holding on to his tail and keeping a firm hold on Charles, Hank nearly fell off his chair in shock.

“Holy…!” he exclaimed.

Azazel placed his precious cargo onto the nearest bed, the blood immediately soaking through the white linen. The blood on his black coat glistened wetly.

“What the hell happened?” Hank blurted.

“Big ugly monster with claws,” Hayes stammered. “It got Erik and Charles was caught in the backlash.”

Hank glanced at the unconscious telepath, lips curling in an unhappy growl. Then he moved on to his more serious patient. Hayes sat on the ground, next to Charles, still holding his wrist.

“This is bad,” Hank only said.

Azazel knew that was an understatement.

“I can’t handle this on my own,” the blue-furred mutant went on, carefully checking the vicious wounds. “Where’s Reaper?”

“Stuck at the airport,” Hayes answered automatically.

Azazel cocked one eyebrow. “Fetch?” he joked.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Be right back.” And he was gone.

Only to reappear with Reaper a few minutes later.

Hank didn’t need to tell the young woman much. She took in the scene, her black eyes first flaring yellow, then turning a bluish-black.

“Hayes, call Dr. Reyes!” Hank barked, snarling at what was revealed under the soiled bandages.

Hayes swallowed reflexively and nearly threw up. She was glad to flee the room and call for back-up.

Azazel placed their unconscious telepath onto another bed and then stood back, simply watching. He didn’t mind the gore and blood. He had seen things and done worse himself. Something else was on his mind: the creature. He hadn’t been able to get a good whack at it and it had been like fighting a gooey mass.

And Xavier had called it a projection.

By the mutant.

He curled his upper lip. He could have gone into the cabin and found the one doing this, and taken him out.

He hadn’t.

Because Xavier had asked him to.

Azazel curled his lip again.

::Thank you:: a faint voice said in his head.

Azazel narrowed his eyes and looked over at the bed where Charles Xavier lay. His eyes were barely open, his breathing was shallow, his skin the color of washed out linen.

::Thank you for not killing the other::

He snorted.

The telepath didn’t say anything else, just looked at where Reaper and Hank were giving Erik’s wounds a first aid treatment while the monitors displayed how bad it was in numbers and colorful images.

Azazel waited. He knew that there would be one last task for him. And even then he would keep an eye on proceedings.

* * *

Dr. Cecilia Reyes was the person Hank turned to when the school needed medical help that he couldn’t provide. In the case of Erik he had desperately needed help. His own emergency treatment of the terrible wounds hadn’t been enough and none of the students or teachers were healers.

Reyes was a mutant herself. Charles and Erik had met her throughout their first recruitment run four years ago. While she had declined to help them fight, she had offered to help in his capacity of a trauma surgeon. That was why he had called her.

“His injuries are extensive,” she told the assembled ‘senior’ mutants of the school. “His shoulder was a mess. He has a deep stab wound that fractured his clavicle but luckily missed the bigger blood vessels. His humorous is fine, but the shoulder blade suffered bone chipping. I removed all bone fragments from the tissue. Muscles and tendons were torn off or torn apart. That needs healing. The slices to his stomach were more serious. A lot of musculature was torn apart and he lost the most blood there. His organs are fine, but the trauma is too extensive to be taken lightly. It will take a while to heal properly and for now I want to keep him under. You said some kind of mutant monster did this?”

Azazel shrugged. He was leaning against the wall, looking mostly disinterested in everything, but the keen look in his eyes betrayed the indifference.

“Xavier said it’s not real, that it was a projection,” he rumbled.

Hayes nodded her agreement. “He insisted that it wasn’t there at all, but that thing was very real. I could smell it. Awful. The claws alone looked like knives!”

Reyes frowned. “Well, those injuries are very real as well. Erik’s in a superb physical condition, which accounts for his survival, but even he is only human. He won’t lose the use of his shoulder, but physical therapy will take a while to restore him. Now I want to take a look at Charles.”

Examining the exhausted telepath took less time and Reyes gave the pale man a smile.

“Get some rest, Charles.”

“I’m trying,” he murmured.

She brushed a caring hand over the floppy, wavy hair. It hung almost limply into his eyes and he was at the end of his emotional as well as physical rope. But he was also tenacious, something she hadn’t seen the first time she had met Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr.

Cecilia Reyes was the daughter of Puerto Rican immigrants and had been born and raised in New York. She had gone through med school and become a superb trauma surgeon, despite whatever opposition she had met. That she was a mutant had neither helped nor obstructed her chosen field of work. She could create force fields; psio-plasmic biofields, Xavier had called it. She didn’t care. She had never wanted to use her abilities as a weapon. They kept her from physical harm and appeared almost unbidden, instinctual, when she was in danger. It was how she had survived a car crash, had walked away without a scratch.

When Charles and Erik had found her one night in the emergency room, just after her shift, she had declined their offer. At the time she had been surprised to find more people with so-called gifts, though in New York you ran across some physical mutations now and then. Cecilia would treat those people pro bono, but still they came to her only reluctantly.

Thinking back she had been convinced at the time that those two had shared something already. She had been surprised that they had been at the beginning of their relationship. It had been so intense back then.

When she had met them the next time, two years later, the intensity had grown.

“Erik needs this, Charles. I know you can feel the separation and it hurts, but you’re stronger than this. As hard as it sounds, you’ve lived without him all your life.”

“He’s my anchor, Ceci.”

She nodded. Charles had told her in a private conversation about the existence of this anchor. Cecilia was very interested in learning about telepathy. Charles had told her about this counterbalancing effect of another mind, about needing the calmness when he overdid it, and about Cerebro. Both the machine and the battle against Shaw had pushed him into anchoring himself in Erik.

Who didn’t mind.

That had been the biggest surprise.

“I know that,” she said calmly. “And I know you once said it was a dangerous connection for the two of you. That you might one day regret it.”

He closed his eyes, fighting the pain she knew he had to feel. “I need him. He and I… we fit, Ceci. We always did. Right from the start. It’s hard to explain and was hard to accept, but he is a part of me. I can’t regret needing him like this. I never regretted it…”

The surgeon sighed. “Oh, Charles…”

“I can’t be that strong,” he added, sounding lost. “Not anymore.”

“You can. You have to be. You have to work through this and come back. There is a whole school of young mutants who are worried about you.”

The blue eyes were too bright for her liking, red-rimmed and filled with repressed tears. This was eating at him and she had no prescription to help.

The telepath looked at his hands, shaking ever so slightly. “I love him, Ceci.”

“I know. And you have to fight.”

“I’m trying.”

“Charles, get yourself together!” she snapped, startling him. “The school needs you. And Erik needs you strong and healthy when he wakes up!”

It jarred him out of his misery for a moment, clearing his eyes. He blinked. Cecilia smiled.  
“He’s your anchor. He will be back, Charles. He will be there again.” She touched his forehead, stroking over the lines of pain. “Let him heal.” Her dark eyes met his blue ones. “Now get some rest. In your own bed, okay?”

He nodded.

Not that she believed him in that regard. The bond between the two men was too strong to keep Xavier away from Erik. She smiled slightly at that thought, then affectionately squeezed one shoulder as she left.

“Sleep,” she reminded him. “I’ll be here until Erik is safely on his way to a full recovery.”

“Thank you, Ceci.”

She smiled at the sincere words. “You are very welcome.”


	7. Chapter 7

  
He slept fitfully, despite the pills Ceci had forced on him, and when he woke for the third time in 30 minutes, he gave up trying to rest. His head hurt and his body ached. Bed was the best place for him but then when did he ever do what was best?

Pulling on a blue and white striped shirt, buttoning it half way up before he lost focus, Charles mindlessly grabbed a pair of dark trousers that still lay in an untidy pile on the floor from the night before they'd left the mansion for Shadowside Creek. Neatness had dropped down his list of priorities like a stone; amazing how little the small things in life meant when something so huge was at stake. Losing Erik would be the end of the man he was now, of the Professor everyone here seemed to find some kinship with. He couldn't imagine running the school, searching for mutants, living alone, without his anchor, without his lover.

That scared the hell out of him.

Bare footed, he padded out along the corridor to the main staircase. Scratching his head, ruffling his own hair, he walked through the silence of the mansion the way he used to as a child. This had always been a house rather than a home, even when Raven had arrived and stayed. It had been a place to play, to learn, to develop. But not until he'd brought the children here from the wreckage of the CIA facility with Erik at his side that it had truly become a home. He loved the place now, now that it was theirs. Without Erik.... He stumbled, catching his balance before he fell face-first down the stairs. A sob almost choked him, accompanying a fierce pain in his head; the injury caused by the severance of his connection with Erik. It couldn't be stitched, couldn't be treated and dressed. Not until Erik was healing, conscious and strong enough to reconnect. If he wanted to.

If he didn't....

Charles wasn't scared to admit that he needed the anchor. It was why he'd made the connection in the first place, or at least it was one of the myriad and complex reasons that he hadn't thought about doing it before, just as he hadn't thought about the consequences or the repercussions. But he wouldn't force Erik into it again. He knew all too well how much the break was hurting him. He had no idea if Erik had been affected, if he even knew their connection was missing. He had no idea and he wanted to know, so desperately. He stood still, hand gripping the banister, closed his eyes and ran a mental finger over the jagged tear. There was nothing of Erik left in his mind except for memories and a bereavement so painful it stole his breath and pressed tears into his eyes.

He blinked, let them escape over his cheeks and stood for a moment, waiting for the pain to pass, reminding himself that Erik was downstairs, in the best place now, with the best care. He was alive. Soon enough Charles would be able to look into his eyes and see him smile. He took a deep breath and carried on down the stairs, one step at a time.

He was the only one awake in the entire sprawl of the mansion. He didn't want to be disturbed, he didn't want company, so he kept an open awareness of the house as he was doing of Erik. If Erik even made a move towards consciousness, Charles would know.

He headed for the main lounge, closed the door behind him but left the lights off. He poured himself a large brandy, drank it back in one swallow and poured another. Then he took it and the bottle to the other end of the room, to the huge bay window overlooking the front path, the lawn, and beyond the substantial grounds, the satellite dish they'd played with during their first eventful week here. Sean, Banshee, had flown over it. Erik had moved it. They'd both felt, that afternoon, like they'd moved the world.

With Erik, he always felt like he could move the world. Erik was his anchor in so many ways; not just the grounding for his telepathic mind, but for his whole life. Erik was his strength and his heart, the other half of his soul. Because of this quest of his, this obsession, this desire to find all the other mutants in the world, he'd almost sacrificed the one mutant who meant everything to him. None of it meant anything without Erik, and Erik wasn't indestructible. None of them were. It was a hard lesson to learn but he was determined this time not to forget it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he became aware of Raven waking, and without really thinking he sent her back to sleep, making sure she would dream of only good things. He loved Raven, but he couldn't deal with anyone tonight, not even his beloved sister. He emptied the glass, barely feeling the burn of the brandy at the back of his throat, and refilled it. He wanted to be blessedly numb, didn't want to feel the razor-sharp cut in his mind, the still-bleeding wound left by the severed bond. He wanted everything to stop hurting. He was to blame for Erik's wounds, Erik's pain, Erik very nearly - fuck - dying...

He swiped at the tears in his eyes, sank the next glass and refilled it.

He was being self-indulgent, he knew that. He was being selfish. He knew what was expected of him, what everyone else needed from him. The children looked to him to be not just their teacher but a surrogate father. The school needed his leadership, the others needed his strength. He felt then that he needed to curl up and cry until his body had given up everything and his dry husk turned to ash in the wind. Baring that, he needed to be drunk, and since he was able to sober himself up from all but the worst of states just with a thought, he decided an entire bottle of brandy should do the trick.

He was being childish.

He felt like a child. He remembered the day his mother had married his step father and lost whatever small amount of interest she had ever had in him. He remembered making the nanny leave with a single thought. He remembered wandering the house, hearing the laughter of his mother's friends, learning by pulling thoughts from the heads of adults. He remembered being alone, every minute of every day, until Raven had showed up.

She had saved him, and he had gone on to great things, got himself into Oxford; a degree, a doctorate.

Then Erik had come along, and he'd found his strength in him as an adult just as he'd found it in Raven as a child.

He used people. He had used Erik, anchoring himself to him because you had no choice. Because he had been scared of losing him. Now he had almost been the cause of his death. He couldn't re-establish the connection between them, he wouldn't. He longed for it, would mourn it, want it and need it for the rest of his life, but he wouldn't take again what he didn't have permission to. He respected... no, loved, Erik too much to do it again.

He just missed it, goddamnit!

He emptied the glass, lifted the bottle to refill it and thought better of it. Turning suddenly in a moment of pique he hurled the crystal tumbler across the room and watched it shatter against the slate fireplace. Wiping more tears from his cheeks with his hand, he lifted the bottle to his lips and swallowed a couple of gulps the way he used to drink ale in Oxford.

His was starting to feel drunk, finally, but it was the worst kind of drunk; his head was heavy and his stomach was nauseated. With the bottle hanging from his fingers, he left the lounge and headed down through the house, into the warren of lower levels. He paused next to the door to Cerebro and it opened automatically, sensing him there. He considered entering, but only for a moment. Drunk in charge of a mind-control device didn't sound all that safe, for himself or for every other mutant out there. Besides, he knew the exact whereabouts of the only mutant he cared about right now. He took two steps past the door and it slid closed and locked.

Charles headed to the infirmary, checking ahead to make sure Erik's only companions were the electronic type. On one hand he hated the idea of Erik being left alone in the state he was in, on the other an exhausted doctor wasn't an alert doctor, and the electronics would keep a better watch of Erik than any human being, mutant or otherwise. If anything changed in his condition, for the better or for the worse, alarms would sound and likely the whole house would be woken, depending on how Ceci had set up the system, depending on where she'd chosen to sleep.  
The doors slid open as quietly as Cerebro's had, welcoming him silently. He was proud of what they'd achieved here. It meant so much to so many, yet without Erik.... He curbed the thought, reaching Erik's bedside, his hand hovering over Erik's fingers.

::Erik...::

He was talking to a void, a hole in his mind, an open wound. There was no one there to hear him.

"Erik."

His voice cracked and broke, tears sliding unneeded over his face; part alcohol, part exhaustion, part emotion. He couldn't stop them and he didn't try. Erik would need him to be strong, would expect him to carry on with his duties to the school and to the children, to the other mutants out there.

 _No!_ A tiny voice in his mind rebelled. It was his search for mutants that had done this to Erik and left him with a deep cut in his head where his lover should have been. It had cost too much already! He couldn't pay a higher price and survive.

But how much was finding other mutants really worth? Could any price be too high? He and Erik, they were the start, they weren't the end. They were two out of an entire species, the species he'd spent years writing his thesis about, predicting, knowing he was right. Now he'd been given the chance to pull everyone like himself, like Raven and Erik and the others together, to help integrate mutants into society. Could he really turn his back on that because of a single mistake?

A mistake that had almost cost Erik his life, he reminded himself. A mistake that had cost him his anchor, his connection to his lover, the thing he treasured above anything material, above anything else except for the mirror of his heart in Erik's. He smiled to himself. Christ! Now he was getting poetic. Drunken poetry. Raven would be amused.

He let his hand fall lightly, finally, on Erik's fingers, feeling their warmth, closing his eyes, concentrating; sensing the blood running through Erik's veins, his strengthening pulse, wounds just beginning to heal. The only thing missing was a mental presence and that would be missing for some time to come. The coma was for the best, for Erik at least and he was the important one right now, he was the one that mattered. That fact, that being unable to reach Erik, to feel him alive in his mind, was tearing him apart, wasn't the least bit important.

He curled his fingers around Erik's hand and held on loosely.

::I...:: "I love you, Erik."

He wasn't drunk any longer. It hadn't taken more than a few minutes to forget he was supposed to be. And he was suddenly weary. But leaving would have taken more willpower than he was capable of, was going to be capable of for a while. So reaching behind him, he pulled up a chair with his foot and sank into it, still holding Erik's hand. He was asleep within minutes, and finally the half-empty bottle of brandy slipped from his fingers and smashed on the sterile floor.

* * *

Charles felt cold. Not physically; psychically.

Cold and torn to pieces.

Cold and too sober.

Cold and alone.

He was looking at the anchor line in his mind, trembling fingers touching the sharp edges that hurt him with every caress. He was bleeding. No physical wounds at all. All in his head. A lonely, dark place that was crying for something that had shattered.

No, not shattered. He didn’t believe it was gone. Erik was still there, barely, but there. Swathed in bandages, hooked up to so many machines he was lost in a sea of cables and monitors, and every screen told Charles that his partner was alive. He would survive.

Hank had read him the riot act when he had found the mess on the floor, the shattered bottle, the broken glass. His temper had blown up right in Charles’ face and the telepath had taken it.  
Because Hank had been right. Because he was behaving like an idiot.

Reaper’s black eyes had looked at him, no emotions in her face, but there was judgment.

Charles had cringed and gone to his own room like a scolded five-year-old, taking a shower, shaving, dressing in clean clothes and having breakfast. From the look of Raven’s scowl, she had heard of the mess he had made.

“Charles.”

He tried to ignore her, but Raven couldn’t be ignored. Not just because of her blue skin and yellow eyes. She had grown into an impressive woman with an iron will, a lot of authority and quite a verbal repertoire when it came to talking sense into her brother. Most of it was rather censored, but she managed to get her point across.

Not this morning. She took his hand, squeezed it, smiling at his startled look.

“It’s okay to be human,” she only said.

Be human. Feel. Cry. Let it all out. And then handle it.

Good advice. But he was a telepath with a void in his head that was self-inflicted. How was he to handle this?

He was back in the medical wing after breakfast. Hank just threw his hands up, muttered something uncomplimentary, but he didn’t kick him out again.

Reaching out, snaking his hand past cables and tubes, Charles curled his fingers around the limp broad hand of his lover’s.

::Erik:: he pleaded faintly.

There was nothing. Only darkness and the echo of his own voice. Erik was deep under, inaccessible, and Hank had told him that the artificial coma was needed. The injuries were too severe to let him experience them consciously.

Sometimes Charles thought he felt little twitches at the edge of his consciousness. As if the anchor was trying to reattach itself.

He wouldn’t let it. Not to a man who had no idea what was happening to him. He had done it once, four years ago, out of desperation and the need for a grounding mind that kept him from going insane with the backlash of what he had done. Charles had used Erik. There was no other word for it. He had used him for his own purposes, had forced the anchor on him, and while Erik had accepted it, it had been a breach of privacy. And more.

 _I won’t do it again_ , he vowed silently. _Not without your consent. I’ve lived for so long without the benefits of an anchor line. I survived it. I could handle myself. I’m a grown man and I know my powers. I don’t need grounding 24/7. It was just because of so many minds…_

He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the tiny voice that told him that an anchor was so much more than an emergency switch that could be thrown when the psychic stress became overwhelming.

But it would be Erik’s choice. His conscious, informed choice.

Until then Charles would continue like he had for all his life.

Ceci started to decrease the amount of drugs that suppressed Erik’s consciousness a few days later. He wouldn’t wake, but he wouldn’t be completely comatose either.

From a telepathic point of view it made no difference.


	8. Chapter 8

  
Normalcy at the school had gone out the window fast. Classes had been suspended and only physical training for some of the students had been continued. It helped work through the shock of Erik’s near-fatal encounter with an unknown mutant and the creature. Charles was trying to be there for the children, but he spent a lot of time with Erik, always close, mind brushing over the unconscious one of his lover.

Raven had been with her brother whenever she could. Most of the time she was looking out for the younger children. At night she sought refuge with Hank, snuggling up to her boyfriend who just held her.

The mornings were spent forcing Charles to eat normally. Raven went down into the medical area, dragged him up into the sunlight, and fed him. He was too pale for her liking, looking mostly absent, and she had seen him touch his temple more often than not when he wasn’t with Erik.

Raven curled her fingers around one wrist, squeezing gently. “Charles, please.”

He blinked, looking confused.

“I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but you can’t run yourself into the ground while Erik is getting better. Let him recover. Cecilia said you need to be strong when he wakes. He’s alive, he will wake up, and you have to be there for him.”

Charles closed his eyes, looking so young and so defeated. “I never thought to have someone like him, Raven,” he said softly. “I can’t lose that.”

“You aren’t losing him! He’s going to be okay.”

Raven pulled the unresisting man into a hug, noting in dismay that he had gotten thinner. Charles was a light-weight to begin with and all the muscle he had built had been due to Erik pushing him into physical training. He had filled out nicely and when she had once seen him at the pool, Raven had been stunned to discover a very athletic looking professor.

“Charles, please.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t do this to yourself. Erik will need all of you when he wakes.”

She ran the back of her fingers tenderly down his temple.

“You’ll feel it when he comes to. He’ll need you then. You can’t break down.”

He swallowed, tears brimming in his eyes and she pulled him close once more.

“We can do this,” she vowed. “We’re here for you. All of us.”

When the tears came, Raven simply held on, stroking over his head, a soothing, repetitive gesture. For Charles to lose it like that… she knew he had to be in agony over Erik. This was worse than any of them could imagine and like everyone she prayed that Erik would pull through.

Walking into the kitchen, Alex Summers stopped, met Raven’s eyes, took one look at the man in her arms who was falling apart, and gave her a brief nod. He grabbed Sean, who was just about to enter as well and pushed him back, whispering to him.

Raven was grateful for their tact and understanding. Everyone knew how bad it was and this was just another reminder that right now, nothing was as it had been before.

* * *

Charles knew about the injuries inflicted on his lover. He had been there when Reyes had given them a first run-down. He had read the medical report. He had been present when the bandages had been changed. That had been almost too much to bear. Seeing the torn flesh, the dried blood, the disinfectant discoloring the skin… He had nearly bolted. But only nearly.

Cecilia was positive that the shoulder would heal completely. It would take a while and there would be scars, but she didn’t expect complications. The monster’s claws had been razor-sharp, like a scalpel. While it made Charles sick to think of the thing, he knew it had also been their luck that those weapons hadn’t been serrated or hooked.

Clean slices.

While in the artificial coma, Erik didn’t dream. It was only when Cecilia was slowly bringing him out of it that flashes of nightmares and memories came through. Charles knew it was his own fault for being so receptive, but the moment he felt Erik’s mind-presence increase, he latched onto it like a drowning man.

So pathetic.

He called himself worse as he sat in the medical wing’s trauma room, watching Erik breathe. Whenever something skittered over the other mutant’s mind he tried to catch it, even if it was the horror of the creature that had done this to him. Charles quickly learned to weather the impact of each terrifying recollection, sending reassurance and safety and warmth.

::I’m here, Erik. You’re safe. Everything’s okay::

Sometimes the long fingers twitched and Charles stroked over them, smiling when his own were weakly grabbed.

In those days he had enough time to go over the puzzle of the mutant and the creature over and over again. Maybe not the first two or three days, when everything was a haze of pain and loss and need and confusion, but as he finally shook off the shock of nearly losing Erik, he became clearer. It helped that he was rarely ever alone. If it wasn’t Hank or Raven, one of the others would drop by.

Reaper’s cold words that he had to get his head out of his ass and stop being a victim had Charles chuckle. She was adhering to Dr. Reyes orders not to start a feeding line with Erik, but she was hard-pressed not to. It was instinctual. She loved Erik like a brother and seeing him like that was breaking her, too.

Talking with Azazel about the creature had given Charles a few interesting new tidbits. He was still trying to make sense of it all.

“Talk to me,” Raven simply offered throughout one visit when he had mentioned that it made absolutely no sense.

Charles leaned back in his chair, feeling knotted muscles protest. He always had a hand wrapped around Erik’s good right hand, feeling the gentle beat of his pulse, his thumb sliding over the dry skin. It was an unconscious gesture and he was almost embarrassed when he caught Raven’s pointed look.

He didn’t remove his hand, though.

“From the beginning,” she added.

So he did. About the signal he had found through Cerebro. Seeing not a particular person, but feeling a strong gift. Usually Cerebro gave him an inkling as to whether the mutant was male or female, younger or older. This time it had been this power, this strange shadow.

“I couldn’t even pinpoint it while we were in Shadowside Creek.”

“That’s a first,” Raven agreed.

“Since the others were stuck at the airport and there was only Hayes and me helping Erik, we split up. Something caught Erik’s attention…” Charles frowned. “Well, he said it was a little girl.”

Raven frowned as well. “Little girl?”

Charles nodded. Erik’s flashes hadn’t included much of a description, but he had caught a general image.

“No older than maybe ten. Maybe even younger. I’m not sure.”

“That’s really young for a gift to come through.”

“Yes. And no. Genetics isn’t that simple, Raven. Your mutation was there since birth, as was Hank’s.”

“It’s physical, Charles.”

He smiled at her, noticing with pride that she didn’t appear reluctant any more, that she had fully accepted her difference. She never wore a disguise at the school anymore and Charles had come to understand it. Finally. It had taken him long enough and he could have lost her over this, he had realized almost too late. It had been Erik who had pushed him into this understanding. It had been Erik who had accepted Raven as her physically different self.

Erik…

He pulled away from that line of thought, concentrating on the girl again.

“It’s only a theory that mutant powers manifest throughout puberty. Maybe this is something else. Maybe the girl isn’t the mutant. This creature… Azazel thinks he saw the girl at the cabin and Erik’s memories, while jumbled, show her as well.”

Raven gave him a quizzical look and Charles ducked his head like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You’re with him?” she asked.

“Uhm…”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Oh, Charles…”

“I’m not fully there,” he protested weakly.

“Enough to see his nightmares,” she stated. “And the memories. Of monsters and him getting hurt. How much into punishment are you?”

He sighed, looking at his hand holding onto the unconscious man. “It’s not punishment. He… I want to tell him that he’s safe, with us…”

Raven slid her chair next to him and curled closer, interlacing their fingers, resting her head against one shoulder. “You’ll make a good Mom one day,” she teased softly.

He laughed, a soft breath of air. “Erik told me so before. Azazel called us parents already.”

“And he’s right. I’m the aunt, by the way.”

Charles smiled and squeezed her hand.

“Now, back to the monster,” she said.

“It didn’t feel real. Not like you or me or anyone else I ever met. It was like a projection.”

“Projections aren’t physical. They can’t touch, Charles.”

“That’s what confuses me. According to Hayes the creature went after Azazel when he got Erik out of the cabin. By all laws of physics it shouldn’t have been able to get into the cabin without tearing the structure apart. It did anyway. And then it was outside like… like someone had flipped a switch and relocated it. I never got anything off it, Raven. No anger, no rage, no pain, nothing. Azazel attacked it and his weapons didn’t injure it.”

Raven was silent, gazing at the monitors around Erik.

“So you think what?” she finally wanted to know. “How can a projection be real? And what is the girl? Another projection?”

“I don’t know. If she’s the mutant… if she projects this thing… her powers are incredible.”

“And if she’s a projection as well?”

“Then maybe the mutant hides within her image?” He frowned at the wild idea.

Raven sat up, not letting go of his hand. “You’re not planning to go back there, right?”

“Not now.”

“Charles…”

“Raven, if the girl is the mutant and she lives in the cabin… we can help her. Talk to her.”

“Erik tried and look what happened!” she snapped.

Charles closed his eyes, looking a little more pale.

“Charles, promise me! You’re not going back there!”

“Not without back-up.”

Raven gave a growl of annoyance. “She nearly killed Erik! For no other reason than the fact that he was there!”

“She had a reason. A reason she understood and acted upon.”

“You’re impossible!”

Charles smiled and pressed a kiss against her temple. “Probably. I’m not going there any time soon, though, Raven. That I can promise.”

“Send someone else. Azazel can handle himself.”

“Do you really think that, if she was already frightened by Erik, Azazel will win her trust? He physically attacked the creature.”

Raven sighed. “Okay, okay. But you will take protection with you.”

“You have my word.”

* * *

Azazel cocked his eyebrows when he found Raven waiting for him after a training session with the more advanced students. Dressed in his habitual black coat and pants he shot her a quizzical look.

“Should my brother ask you to get him back to Shadowside Creek, don’t do it.”

“And why should I?” he rumbled.

“Because he will get himself killed if he goes alone.”

He chuckled. “Maybe you underestimate him.”

“Maybe. But I know he’s not back in shape at the moment and whatever he says or does, it’s influenced by Erik’s condition.”

His tail moved back and forth. “You think I would simply follow his orders?”

“He could make you, Azazel.”

He grinned, showing white teeth. “He could, but he won’t.”

“You underestimate him again. This is personal and he will compromise ethics for personal things.” Raven met the impossibly light colored eyes in the fiery red-skinned face. “Don’t take him. Please.”

He nodded slowly. “You have my word I won’t, Raven. But he will go back to the place of his partner’s injury. Because of the girl.”

“I know. And when they’re both strong enough I won’t even try to stop him. Right now they need to take it easy.”

“Agreed.”

Raven looked at him once more, then smiled. “Thanks.”

And she was gone.

Azazel chuckled to himself, then cast a brief look into one corner where the familiar figure of Riptide was leaning against the wall, hand shoved into the finely tailored pants that had probably cost a small fortune. If nothing else, Riptide loved fine clothes.

Both men left the gym, heading for the mansion.


	9. Chapter 9

  
The first time Erik truly woke was only for a few minutes. Charles stood back, pale and reflecting how badly he had slept in the past week. There were dark patches under his eyes and his hair was tousled. A light shadow of a beard stood out starkly against the chalky skin.

Erik’s eyes cracked open, light gray and clouded. Dr. Reyes was talking to him, calmly, professionally, telling him he was fine, to breathe normally, that he was home.

Charles noticed a light tremor running through the metal tray at his side.

::Erik, you’re fine:: he sent, ignoring the sharp pain of the severed line as it came in the way of their contact.

But he had reached his lover. The tray calmed down.

Cecilia gave him a brief nod, then went about checking her patient’s vital functions.

Charles felt only a flutter of consciousness from Erik, then he was asleep again. He fell against the wall, shaky, mouth suddenly dry. It would have been so very easy to reestablish the connection, but he refused to be needy, to give in.

It would be Erik’s choice.

*

The next time Erik roused was for a longer stretch. More tests were performed, bandages changed, and he was given a few sips of water. The IV was his only nutritional source and while there was a moment when his abilities went a little haywire, Charles managed to calm him with a touch and a smile.

The syringe, needle and assorted small metallic objects quieted.

Gray eyes looked into blue, still confused, still reflecting the suffering this man had gone through, and Charles bit down hard on the surging need to reestablish what they had lost.

He wouldn’t take advantage of this. Erik hadn’t been able to choose the last time and maybe he had only accepted the connection because there had been no other solution at the time.

And Charles wasn’t dependent. He had never been, he never would be.

And if he told himself that 24/7 he might just start believing it.

No one knew about the severed anchor. Barely anyone knew about the anchor. Only a select few. And aside from maybe another telepath no one could understand it anyway.

So Charles ran a caress over the unshaven cheek of his partner, smiled at him, reassured him.

Inside he was slowly tearing himself to pieces.

*

Whenever he was lucid enough, Erik allowed himself to slide towards the warm point in his mind where Charles' mind welcomed him. There was an odd quality to it, but he put it down to the drugs. Its character was different, missing Charles' beauty and power, but he put that down to the drugs, too. And it was missing the almost silent, underlying pulse of Charles' heartbeat; again, he blamed the medication that kept his sensation fuzzy and his thoughts jumbled.  
It was okay though, because Charles was there with him.

Only when he started to have moments of actual wakefulness did he start to wonder. One afternoon he woke. He knew he was awake even though he couldn't feel his body, because he could hear soft snoring. When he turned his head, he saw Charles, arms crossed on the edge of the mattress, head down, sleeping fitfully. The only part of himself he was capable of moving was his hand and that was trapped under Charles. Which was fine. But as he smiled to himself and closed his eyes again, slipping back to unconsciousness, he had a second to realize there was something strange about the connection in his mind; it was awake. In his head, Charles was awake.

It was wrong. But the thought didn't stick, slipping away from him like oil as darkness took him.

* * *

When he was finally awake for longer stretches of time, Erik Lensherr became clearer on his environment. He realized he was home, safe, and that Charles had found him. He had been told about the extent of his injuries, how serious it was, and that he had been out for a week. He understood the need for his body to regain its strength and that being confined to the hospital bed was for his own good. Not that he felt strong enough to even get out of said bed.

Visitors were monitored and whenever he got tired, Hank or Cecilia ushered them out. The only person who was allowed to come and go as he wished was Charles.

Who looked like crap.

Erik’s sharp eyes took in every line, every shadow, noticed the pale skin and the exhaustion in every move or gesture. While Charles tried to uphold a façade of composure and control, he was failing on all fronts when it came to Erik.

Because Erik knew him. Closer and better than even Raven, who had mentioned something once or twice that her brother wasn’t handling this well. Erik had noticed the hint and he had tried to pin down just what it was.

He had gotten hurt. Charles had been worried. But he had found Erik and brought him home. So what was the problem?

“You’re not talking to me,” Erik said as he sat half-propped up in bed. His stomach protested prolonged sitting.

Charles looked at him, startled. “I don’t?”

“In here.” Erik touched his temple, IV lines and cables trailing down his arm. He felt like a freaking machine himself.

His lover looked caught. There was no other word for it.

“Charles?” he queried, voice growing sharper.

What was going on?

“You need rest,” the telepath murmured and was about to rise, but Erik’s hand shot out and grabbed the fleeing man.

Charles froze.

“What aren’t you telling me?” the other mutant demanded.

For all his missing strength, his mind was clear and sharp. Gray eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Charles?”

“We can talk about that when you’re well again, my friend.”

His jaw hardened. “I’m as good as it gets right now. And we talk about it. What. Is. Going. On?” Erik growled, tugging at the wrist in his grasp.

Charles didn’t fight him, probably afraid to hurt his lover, which was ridiculous. Narrowed eyes looked over the washed-out appearing man, noticing how bad he was again. This was far from worry. This was more.

“Charles, talk,” he bit out. He tried to broadcast the order, but he only got a little flinch from the other man and that wasn’t normal either. “What have you done?”

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything,” Charles answered quickly.

Erik’s mind was racing. Something had happened. Something bad. Something that stopped Charles from doing the natural thing… Mind-talk.

::Talk to me!:: he yelled loudly.

The blue eyes widened abruptly and Charles gasped, knees buckling a little. Erik held on to his wrist, refusing to give him the chance to run for it, and Charles fell onto the chair that was still next to the bed.

“Did this thing hurt you?” Erik demanded. “Was it psychic as well?”

“No! No, it wasn’t that…” Charles drew a deep breath, weakly trying to tug his hand out of the tight grasp.

 _Fat chance_ , Erik thought, looking directly at this lover.

“It didn’t hurt me, Erik,” the telepath tried, voice dropping to a calm and soothing manner.

Not working either, Erik growled to himself. He wouldn’t fall for it. He was no longer a victim of too many drugs in his system and the pain in his body was a welcome distraction to the muddled thoughts of before. Pain was a known factor, an old friend, and he used the sharp aches to focus.

“What happened?” he repeated coldly.

Silence.

“Charles!”

It got him a shiver. “When the creature hurt you… it… backlashed.”

He frowned.

“Into me.”

Well, shit!

Charles smiled weakly. “Yes.”

It still wasn’t the whole truth. Charles was a strong telepath and he had fought off attacks before. He had influenced a thousand minds four years ago, wiping their actions from those minds, and he went out into the world on a daily basis with that receptive brain of his. He had held his own against Emma Frost. He had honed his skills and become so much more, so much stronger…

Erik frowned more.

Something was missing.

And then it hit him like a ton of bricks between the eyes.

Something was truly missing. Something… something like the gentle touch of the telepath against his mind, the warmth, the curl of strength that had been there ever since the start of their relationship off the coast of Miami. Erik was used to being Charles’ anchor, his balance, when the telepath needed him. It was second nature and it didn’t bother him.

Now there was… nothing…

“Charles?” he queried tonelessly. “What happened to the anchor?”

His lover paled dramatically. Bingo!

“Charles… What happened?!” he repeated more loudly.

“It’s… gone,” was the quiet answer.

Erik felt shock course through him. Violent and with the force of a tidal wave.

Gone.

The anchor line was… gone…

“How?” he stuttered, totally overrun by the information.

“The backlash. Your pain… it was too much. I couldn’t buffer and it took me out,” the telepath whispered, voice almost monotonous. “It simply collapsed.”

“Simply?” he exploded, fingers digging into the wrist he held. “Simply, Charles?”

The noise of pain had him freeze and he let go of the wrist, guilt flooding him. Charles only looked at the mistreated limb, but he didn’t flee. He sat there, next to Erik’s bed, looking miserable and alone and small and hurt…

Without the anchor line.

Damnation!

Erik used the remote to push himself up further and gently placed a hand onto Charles’ arm.

“Look at me.”

Charles sighed and raised his head, face filled with so many emotions they took Erik’s breath away.

“Why didn’t you reestablish?”

“It would have meant taking advantage of you.”

He stared. He blinked. He would have laughed if it hadn’t been so shocking and ridiculous and mind-numbing. His stomach ached and his shoulder protested his movements, but he shoved the pain away.

This had to be dealt with.

Now!

“Repeat that, please,” he heard himself say tonelessly.

“The first time I anchored I did so without your consent,” Charles replied, voice growing stronger, growing angry. “I took. I never asked. I didn’t think it would become permanent! It did and it became a liability!”

Erik opened his mouth to say something, but the sharp words of his lover cut him off.

“I took from you and you never had a choice! Now you have it! You know the downside to it, the backlash it can hold! I’m not going to just take again! It’s an intrusion, a breach of privacy and trust! You never knew what you were getting into! Not this time. I want you to understand what this is, Erik. You’ve seen the negative sides. You know what it does to you…”

“Good god, shut up!” Erik yelled, wishing he could get up.

Pain flared in his body, too many places to count. He ignored it again. Charles looked at him like a startled rabbit.

“Will you please just shut up?” the other mutant repeated. “I’m not the victim, Charles! You didn’t take advantage of me!”

“I did!” the telepath yelled back. “I took, Erik! I became a leech! You didn’t know and you couldn’t choose!”

“I chose to stay, you moron!”

Charles violently shook his head.

“I chose you!” Erik added harshly. “I chose you, Charles. Only you! And with it the telepathy! I trusted you with my mind and the anchor… the anchor is nothing compared to what you could do to me!”

“It’s not about my abilities, don’t you understand?!”

“No, it’s about your misunderstood code of chivalry!”

Erik gritted his teeth against a new surge of pain. Charles was slowly retreating, body and mind, and he used a fraction of his power to slam the door shut.

“Erik, open the door,” came the toneless order.

“Make me!” he challenged.

Blue eyes burned with self-recrimination and anger. Gray eyes held the fury and met it with their own.

“I understand it, Charles. I know what the anchor means! YOU told me. YOU! And you said you would have removed yourself if I had said no!” Erik drove his point home.

Charles shook his head.

“I want this! I want you, dumbass! I want this connection!” Erik held his stomach with his right hand, the left immobile due to the shoulder brace.

“It’s a liability,” came the weak argument.

“As is my inability to breathe underwater,” Erik deadpanned.

Charles stared. “W-what?”

“I want you by my side,” Erik repeated what he had said so long ago. “You and me, together. The past four years have been incredible. I don’t want to lose that, Charles. I don’t want to lose you. I want the anchor.”

“Not while you’re on drugs, in pain… This has to be a conscious decision…”

“I can’t get any more fucking conscious, Xavier!” he snarled. “Stop playing the martyr and think of yourself for once, for god’s sake!”


	10. Chapter 10

  
Charles sagged against the wall, eyes swimming. There was this need in every line of his body. This painful, vicious need that he was trying to push away. Erik desperately wanted him close, wanted to touch him, but he wasn’t going anywhere. It was Charles’ choice to come to him; Charles’ choice to reestablish what he so badly needed and denied himself.

“Charles,” he intoned, lowering his voice, putting all his emotions into the words. “Please. Please let me be there for you.”

A tear spilled over and Xavier wiped it angrily away.

“Please,” Erik murmured. He held out a hand.

“You can’t…”

“I consider myself duly informed and notified,” Lensherr said calmly. “I want this, Charles. With you. It’s my conscious, willing decision. Please.”

Charles came closer, steps heavy, tired. He looked shaky enough to fall over in a breeze and Erik so badly wanted to get up, wrap his arms around him, hold him – while simultaneously yelling at him for being such an idiot!

“It’s not the weight of the world on your shoulders, Charles. We’re in this together. I made the decision to stay with you. Good times and bad times.” He grinned at his joke.

Charles twitched a faint smile.

“I want you by my side,” he repeated once more. “I want you to be here, too.” He touched his head. A thought struck him and he frowned briefly. “If you want that.”

Charles almost fell onto the chair, violently shaking his head. “Never think I wouldn’t want you,” he managed. “I need you, Erik.”

“I hurt you just as badly.”

“Matching pair then, hm?”

 

Erik’s long fingers carded into the wavy strands. Charles shivered at the contact, tiny thrills running through him. The gray eyes reflected a bone-deep weariness. The argument had depleted what strength he had and he was hanging on because he wanted this out in the open and dealt with now.

Erik gently tugged. Charles didn’t need more of an invitation. He leaned down, brushing their lips together in the gentlest of kisses. Erik’s lips were dry and chapped, but the telepath didn’t care.

“Charles,” came the rough whisper.

He was trembling slightly, trying to pull back, but Erik didn’t let him. Emotions welled up.

“Stay?”

He felt the call through the fragments, felt Erik’s presence. Sharp and cutting and warm and needing and so familiar, it ached.

::Yes::

The mind-contact was rocky, as if he had never talked to Erik like this before, as if he hadn’t used his gift before. The gray eyes narrowed and the long fingers ghosted over his temple.

A wordless plea. An offer.

::Charles::

He almost sobbed at the familiar voice, the soft timbre, the push of someone else in his head. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the contact, but Erik wasn’t strong enough for it. He had just about survived his injuries.

::Don’t be an idiot:: came the tired murmur.

Erik’s finger still caressed his temple, his cheek, his face. Charles closed his eyes, leaning into the caress. He had missed this so badly. A simple touch, the faint presence of Erik in his mind. Just the knowledge he was there.

He was such a girl!

::Idiot:: Erik repeated, smiling faintly. It had a drugged edge to it. ::Please?::

::Can’t. You still have to heal:: he replied, fighting for calmness, for detachment.

The memory of the bleak days was too strong in his mind. How had he let this one man come so close, become part of his life so completely?

::Only my body. And my mind needs you:: The contact strengthened. ::You need me. Accept me::

Because they were good for each other. Because this was more than a telepath’s dependency on another mutant with a dark and violent past. A mutant whose mind was sharp-edged, full of violence and past rage and anger, striking at what it perceived as a threat.

“Stay,” Erik rasped again. “Please.”

He couldn’t fight the need. He couldn’t be strong any longer.

::You are strong, Charles. The strongest man I’ve ever known::

He smiled a little, fighting back his emotions. He was open, completely open, and Erik was finally sliding back into the empty place in his mind. The void was filling slowly and he welcomed the feeling of the other man so heavy and warm.

The next contact of lips against lips was more of a kiss, but still careful of the injuries. Erik smiled.

“You’re tired,” Charles said, one hand cupping the too thin face.

“So are you.”

“I’m fine.”

::Liar: I can feel you, Charles::

He smiled a little. Yes, Erik could feel him. And Charles felt him, too. It was amazing and something he didn’t want to lose again.

::You’re exhausted:: Erik’s eyes were sliding shut and he couldn’t fight it any more. ::Sleep, please?::

Charles interlaced their fingers, monitoring Erik’s mind as it evened out. He was sound asleep a few minutes later.

::Promise:: he whispered.

  


Cecilia and Hank found him sound asleep on the second bed an hour later. Charles had pushed it closer, had moved all the important cables, tubes and wires, and lay as close to Erik as possible.

Cecilia shook her head. “Stubborn.”

“You have no idea,” Hank muttered and went to check the readings from the monitoring station.  
Reyes smiled fondly at the picture before them, then joined Hank in evaluating the data.

* * *

“Have you ever known my brother to make it easy?” Raven asked as she helped Erik chase away the boredom of being confined to bed, in the medical wing, underground. “Just so you know, there is only one correct answer.”

Erik chuckled, looking at his cards. Raven wasn’t a chess player and to be completely honest, it was a game he only played with Charles. She was a card shark, though.

“He’s stubborn. Always has been. And he’s prone to self-sacrifice. Weight of the world on his shoulders.” She waved a hand, then gestured at him. “Card, Erik.”

He played one and she grinned, fanning out hers. “Sorry.”

He grimaced. Beaten again.

“One more?” Raven asked.

“You really like winning against invalids.”

“Oh, I can beat you at cards with a hand behind my back,” she proclaimed confidently as she sorted the cards. “One more?”

He caved and the cards were dealt.

“As for Charles,” Raven went on, “you have to beat it into his thick skull with a tire iron sometimes.”

“I noticed.”

Raven looked at him over her cards, yellow eyes serious. “You’ve to be that tire iron, Erik.”

He chuckled. “Four years of experience.”

“I raise you by ‘most of my life’,” she added. Raven leaned forward. “You’re good for him, Erik.”

He stared at his cards, then looked up, meeting her steady gaze.

“I know him,” the young woman went on. “He never had any friends, aside from me. He had one-night stands and bad pick-up lines. He’s the most adorable geek and he loves what he does, but he’s never been good on a personal level, for all his psychoanalytical bullshit.”

Erik chuckled.

“He’s been driving himself into the ground after you were hurt,” Raven said, fiddling with the cards. “I know something happened. More than just you not being there.”

Almost on automatic Erik reached for the still rather faint anchor. Charles was asleep – finally! – and his mind was resting. It was like a calm center, a deep well of peace in Erik’s mind. It felt so right, so absolutely good.

Raven watched him silently, a fine smile playing around her lips. She didn’t say anything, but Erik somehow got the notion that she knew.

“You fixed it?” she now only asked.

Erik tugged a corner of his mouth up into a smile. Raven answered it with a wide smile of her own and folded her cards.

“Get some rest, Erik. You’ll need it to deal with the hardhead I call a brother when he wakes up.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

Erik was stunned for a moment, then could only stare after her as Raven sashayed out of the room, looking pretty smug. He chuckled softly and glanced at her cards. A winning hand once again. Then he shoved them together and put them aside. Closing his eyes, Erik let his mind fall toward the anchor point. It was soft and warm and nice, and it felt completely right.

It was how he fell asleep.

* * *

With two dozen children at the mansion and two of the senior teachers down for the count, Raven had found herself picking up slack and trying her best to handle matters. She was grateful for Riptide and Azazel’s presence. She tried to reschedule classes. She had Havoc and Banshee keep the kids busy with exams and reading assignments, but with Hank, Charles and Erik all down for the count for one reason or another, courses were dropping off the grid left and right.

Until Greg approached her. “I can help,” the landscape artist said quietly.

Raven blinked. “Come again?”

“I went to college, Raven,” he said with a mild smile. “I have a major in botany and minored toxicology and zoology. Botany covers a wide range of scientific disciplines. I can teach them a thing or two in biology, geology and even genetics if there’s need for it. Not like the professor, but I can.”

She nearly hugged him out of joy.

“Anna offered to help out, too. And Harriet has an economics degree and said she can also teach history, though she prefers current topics.”

“Really? But… you have a job, Greg. You all do!”

“We want to help,” he only replied. “And the children need something to take their minds off Mr. Lensherr’s injuries.”

Now she did hug him. “Thank you!”

That’s how a new teaching schedule was hammered out. It brought with it more normalcy than before.

Raven was surprised that Azazel and Riptide still stayed, despite three new teachers who helped out.

Neither gave a reason, but she was glad they did.

* * *

It was late. Maybe even early. That was open for interpretation.

Charles sat in a comfortable chair that was definitely not hospital issue and reading. Dressed in leisurely clothes that still looked too formal on him, too much like he had just stepped off the podium, he was paging through a loose collection of whatever.

Erik watched him, sharp eyes taking in the still lingering lines of exhaustion, the way his shoulders slumped a little more than normal. There was a cup of tea sitting next to him on the tray table, together with a small pot that was no longer steaming. Charles’ hair was in disarray, as if he had been running his fingers through it more often.

A frown appeared on the youthful features and he scribbled something onto a paper, then continued reading.

If not for the whole sterile atmosphere of the medical wing, the scene might have been adorably cozy. But Erik knew exactly where he was and why he was here; the very reason why Charles was also here. Not in his bed, not in his study, not taking care of the school from his office.

“I can do that from here,” came the mild reproach.

Blue eyes looked at him, tired but so much more alive than a few days ago.

Erik frowned.

“I’m not reading you, my friend.”

“Monitoring.”

Charles looked caught and his eyes fell on his work. “I apologize.”

::Don’t::

Just touching the healing connection seemed to kick lose an avalanche of emotions, racing along the thin line that couldn’t relay all of that yet. Like a wave running out of strength as it hit the shore, the emotional rush tapered out.

But Erik caught the gist of it and he smiled slightly. He had missed it. Sure, most of that time he had spent unconscious or in a coma, but after waking something had been missing. There had been a Charles-shaped hole in his mind and he hadn’t even realized it due to the drugs. Now he knew what it felt like and he didn’t want to experience it ever again.

“You should get some sleep, Charles.”

“I slept.”

He rolled his eyes and reached out for his lover with his good hand.

“You’re being a self-sacrificing ass again.”

Charles met his eyes, looking stubborn, but he interlaced their fingers. Erik didn’t know how to describe the sensation that touched his mind. It was so much warmth and worry and care, the emotions usually floored him.

“Get some sleep, Charles, please. You can grade papers later.”

“I recall you saying I should pay more attention to the school,” Charles pointed out with a mild smile.

The thumb rubbing over his skin was distracting and Erik sighed. “Are you?” he asked.

The caught look in his lover’s eyes gave him the answer.

“What are you looking at?” Erik pressed on.

Charles shuffled the papers, shrugging. Erik tried to get an idea through the connection, secretly happy to feel it stronger than before.

“Cerebro?!” he then blurted. “What the fuck? Charles!”

“I didn’t go into Cerebro!” Charles shot back angrily. “These are old readings! I’m just trying to… The whole case went completely wrong and I never managed to get a fix on the mutant, Erik! It’s an aberration and I’ve been trying to find something, anything, that might explain it.”

Erik’s fought down his anger. Charles wasn’t strong enough to handle something like this! At least not at the moment.

Xavier’s anger flared as an echo to what was leaking along their connection. Blue eyes blazed and the pale skin flushed.

“I’m not weak, Erik!” he hissed, tugging his hand out of the light grip. “I’m not some child who needs supervision! I need to know who the mutant is! Do you really think I’d use Cerebro now? After everything? Risking backwash into your mind? Do you really think I’m so obsessive? Or self-destructive?”

He had gotten up, papers spreading everywhere, and Erik felt the already mentioned backwash as his mind was swamped with the fury that was Charles Xavier. He had never felt something like this from his lover before and it reminded him sharply of his own darkness, of his own rage, and how cutting and painful it was for Charles. Now he was on the receiving end.

With the one difference that he knew how to handle pain. He could compartmentalize; he could separate from the pain. What was harder was the separation from Charles.

Pushing himself up with his good arm, biting back on the pain-response from his shoulder and stomach, he snarled a curse.

“Will you fucking stop?”

Charles stared at him, so filled with anger and radiating it with a vengeance.

“I’m worried about you, Charles! I care, you fucking dimwit!” He sank back, scrubbing his good hand over his faintly aching forehead. “I love you, Charles Xavier. I care so frigging much it hurts! I just want you to stop taking on all and every responsibility and just think about yourself! The mutant will still be there later! I’ll still be here later! Get some rest! Please!”

Charles was shaking. He wet his lips, searching for something to say, then just fell back into his chair.

“I apologize,” he whispered roughly.

“You need to unwind,” Erik begged.

“But…”

“I’ll be fine. The school needs you. There are two dozen children who depend on you, look up to you, and they worry. I know some of them have been hanging around, trying to sneak a peek. Hank’s been chasing them off more often than not. I’ll heal and you need to, too.”

Erik concentrated on the metal in the chair and drew it flush up against the bed, grinning as Charles gave a yelp of surprise. It had required more power than normal and he had executed the maneuver with a lot less finesse, but it had accomplished the goal. He cupped the pale cheek, rubbing a thumb over it.

“I love you, Charles,” he repeated. “So damn much that it scares me every time I think about it. You scare me. And you freak me out when you pull stunts like that.” He glanced at the papers.

“I didn’t plan on using Cerebro,” Charles reiterated gently.

“Somehow I doubt you can stay away from that infernal device for long.”

“It’s useful. We need it.”

“And we, I, need you in one piece.”

Charles grabbed Erik’s hand, resting his forehead on the interlaced fingers. “I’ll never leave you,” he whispered. “I can’t. I love you too much, need you too much.”

Erik held on to the anchor, not letting go. Not for anything in the world would he let go.


	11. Chapter 11

  
It became almost a common sight then: Charles sitting next to Erik’s bed, work piling up beside him. Genetics texts, school reports, exams, science journals. Sometimes a book that had nothing to do with any of it. Erik asked him to read him things out loud, or he would demand to see the exams himself. Charles told him about mutations, about his own research into the subject matter, and they sometimes engaged in a lively discussion.

It felt good, Charles mused. Normal. Not completely normal; not a normalcy he should get used to. Just… for now… peacefully calm.

* * *

The stronger he got, the more irritable Erik Lensherr became as a patient. The drugs were reduced to a level where he could handle pain comfortably. In Erik’s case that was a high threshold of pain and an aversion to the numbness of pain medication. Hank was scowling at his renitent patient and Cecilia Reyes had long since given up on trying to convince the other mutant to take it easy on himself.

Erik had never given himself that ease.

He had been trained to survive against all odds, to take more punishment than the average human and still fight, and he had been programmed to move the moment the pain was bearable.

Reyes had immobilized the mauled shoulder and fastened the non-metallic straps securely. He wouldn’t be able to remove them, unless he used a knife to cut through the bindings. Erik understood the necessity to let the bones and tissue mend. He also understood the necessity of physical therapy, which was excruciating.

To spare Charles the echoes of pain, Erik normally cut himself completely off from his partner and lover. The telepath wasn’t happy about it; not at all.

Tempers rose and fell like the tide and everyone just gave the two men a wide berth, letting them have it out. It was preferable to what had been before.

School had yet to turn to normal. Azazel and Riptide were still around, which was an aberration to their normal ‘schedule’, which consisted of coming and going whenever they wanted. The children had less off-time than they had probably thought they would. Hank had piled reading material on them, and Azazel and Riptide had physical training lessons set up. With the addition of Harriet, Anna and Greg there were enough lessons to keep everyone busy and from thinking too much about the events of the last weeks.

Charles was finally back to handling the school’s bureaucracy, but he still was with Erik more often than not. And because of that, Lensherr had made the decision.

“I caused you enough pain!” Erik snarled when Charles brought up the still shielded anchor line again. “I nearly crippled you!”

“I wasn’t prepared!” Charles shot back, eyes flaring with a mirrored anger.

“Which is why this is a liability right now!”

The telepath caught his breath, staring at him from wide eyes.

“You have a school to run! You are the fucking head of this place, Charles Xavier! Those kids need you! I’m your weak spot, Charles, don’t you see? Take me out of the picture and you’re useless in a fight! The backlash can kill you!”

Emotions flooded through him and Erik bit back a growl of annoyance. He wasn’t really aware of blasting all of it on a psychic level as well, but from the pale face and the taut lines in Charles’ face he should have been able to see it.

“I’m sparing you the pain, Xavier!” he drove his point home. “I know you’re not some masochist! You don’t need this! You don’t need me taking up your brainpower, rendering you a vegetable!”

::Shut up!::

The telepathic order was like a blast and it stilled Erik, eyes wide, mouth open. He stumbled back, bringing his right hand up to his head as the flare of power cut into his mind like a dagger.

::Shut up!:: Charles repeated again, blue eyes blazing. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Erik! You don’t get to decide what I need and don’t need! You don’t get to play martyr because of some misunderstood protective instinct!”

Erik’s jaw worked, muscles tense. “This isn’t about…”

“It is!” Charles was now right in his face. “I can feel you, Erik Lensherr. I know!”

“Then stay out of my head!”

“NO!”

His good hand shot forward, grabbing the smaller man by the scruff of his shirt and pushing him back. Charles’ legs hit the table and he had to use his hands to keep himself from crashing onto it. One hand wrapped firmly around Erik’s wrist, the liquid blue eyes burning brightly.

The shock of contact rattled through Lensherr’s mind and he nearly let go. Only nearly.

“Don’t think I’m some wide-eyed, innocent kid who doesn’t know the dangers of this, Erik,” Charles whispered, voice as cutting as his mind. “I know. Damnit, I know! I’ve been in that mind of yours too often not to. I’ve been there with you! I felt it all and I survived it. Not just this. Every single damn time! Right from the beginning. I was in your mind so deeply, I was you. All of you. All your pain and fear and hatred. Within one fucking second! I was there when you killed Shaw! I felt that, too! I looked into your eyes through him and I felt it, Erik. I’m not weak! I don’t need your protection!”

Erik was trembling with the memories of what Charles was recalling, but he refused to fall for them.

“Then shield the anchor line,” he snarled.

“No.”

“I’m dangerous, Charles! To you!”

“No.” Charles was glaring, his grip tightening. “We have to work on this. Both of us. We need each other and we need this.”

Erik let go of the sweater and wanted to push away, but the tight hold on his wrist didn’t let him. He felt exhausted, his body not yet up to expending so much energy on anything other than healing.

Charles loosened his grip, stepping right up to his partner and meeting the gray eyes.

::We need this, Erik. You just as much as I do::

“You’re dependent.”

::No::

“But you need this.”

::Yes::

He laughed humorlessly.

::I’m not better off without you::

Erik froze.

::I can see it in your mind. Don’t, Erik. Please, never… never think I could do all of this alone. I need all of you. Do you understand? All.::

 _Even the pain?_

Charles smiled. “I’m no masochist, but yes. Even that. It keeps me more grounded than you would think. What happened back in Shadowside Creek showed us how much we still need to learn. And we need to train.”

“How do you train this?”

“We’ll find a way.”

Charles let go of the wrist and stepped away, but Erik quickly reached out and pulled him close. Wounds be damned. Hesitant arms wrapped very lightly around his injured body.

::We can do this, Erik. Together.::

::You’re a sucker for punishment, aren’t you, Charles?::

It got him a soft chuckle. ::I love you, too::

Erik rested his head against Charles’, feeling the gentle mind-touch, quizzical and soft and so familiar. How could he fight something as incredible like this? The soldier in him yelled that it was a weakness, that it would bring him down one day, that it had already caused more harm than good.

::No:: came the murmur from Charles. ::No harm. Never. Not damaged::

Because it was also beautiful and warm and simply Charles. He needed it. Just like Charles had said.

Erik let himself fall, feeling the telepath’s mind catch him, cushion his fall. Charles wrapped himself around his mind, holding tight.

 _I love you_ , he thought, not even consciously broadcasting.

Charles’ fingers carded into his sweater, careful of the bandages and the wounds underneath. He received those thoughts. Loud and clear. And the caress over Erik’s mind was more than enough of an answer.

* * *

Reyes had returned to her job in New York and dropped by once a week to check on Erik and his progress. Hank had taken over the medical care, though it was growing increasingly more difficult to keep the older man in check. Erik was too restless, wanted to get back into the game, as he called it. Physical therapy had restored some mobility, but the healing wounds were a nuisance.

“You’re in pain,” Charles corrected him gently. “That’s not a nuisance.” ::Despite what you went through in your life, this isn’t a bothersome itch, Erik. It was serious::

Erik smiled thinly, looking into the worried blue eyes. He was wearing his trademark all-black, but the white straps keeping his shoulder immobile were in stark contrast.

“I need you to be whole, Erik. I need you to accept your limitations for now. You’re not alone in this. You were never alone.”

Erik was visibly fighting the old indoctrination to be strong, no matter what. To be the alpha. To be ready and fighting at the drop of a coin.

“Never alone,” he echoed, smiling slightly.

“Get it into your thick skull.”

“It’s getting crowded in there.”

“Get used to it. I’m not leaving.”

Erik grinned almost triumphantly. He pulled Charles close.

“Erik…” he warned as he was suddenly almost flush against his lover.

“Hm?” came the innocent reply.

“You’re a child.”

He grinned more. “When you start shaving, we can talk.”

Erik leaned down and nibbled at his neck while sliding his right arm around Charles’ waist. Xavier tried to suppress a moan, but it had been so long and his body simply reacted. The smile of Erik’s lips against his neck told him that the other mutant was feeling it, too.

“Your shoulder,” he murmured.

“There are things you can do without a left arm,” Erik rumbled.

It went through Charles like wildfire and he tried to push away, but Erik held him tightly.

::Charles…::

It was almost a plea.

“You think you can handle it?” the telepath teased.

“You think you can last that long?” came the poke back.

Later Erik cursed his still weak muscles, the pinpricks of pain small in comparison to the wave of exhaustion he felt. It was also almost embarrassing how fast he had come from the blowjob, how drained it had left him, and he had mumbled an apology to Charles.

::No need to apologize:: came the calm reply. ::It’s only to be expected::

Like the shoulder pain and the muscles still cramping around his stomach injuries.

Shit!

Charles kissed him warmly, those deep pools of blue filled with loving worry and care as they looked at Erik.

::You?:: Erik managed, already falling victim to the exhaustion.

::Hm, taken care of::

Erik cursed himself again, his weakness, but he couldn’t manage a verbal reply as his mind gave in to the demands for rest.


	12. Chapter 12

  
Erik’s powers were not physical. He wasn’t super-strong or super-fast. His ability to manipulate metal came from his mind. But it was a mind attached to a body, and currently neither was in the best of shapes. The pain drugs had left him with a slightly fuzzy feeling now and then, even though he had been off them for a few days now completely. Cecilia’s meds had been strong and suppressed the pain perfectly, but he wanted to be free of the influence. She had told him that the general fatigue he experienced was normal. His body needed all its energy to mend the wounds and mental processes were down to a minimum.

Not what he had wanted to hear!

That his body was weak and not ready for anything bothered the mutant. He had never been this helpless, felt so useless. Never. Not even against Shaw on the sub. He had had control of his powers, even if they had been almost useless against his ‘creator’. He still recalled the struggle to keep the massive metal beams from crushing him, his head pounding with what had probably been a mild concussion, looking into the eyes of the man he had hated with every fiber of his being.

Charles tried to calm him, tried to distract him from his inability to think clearly enough to lift assorted pens in a complicated maneuver. In the beginning it was nice and easy to sit on the too comfortable couch, listen to Charles read, watching TV, listening the radio. But it didn’t work for the long run.

And pens zapped through Charles’ study, narrowly missing an old painting and slicing along the wall.

Charles raised an eyebrow when a letter opener ripped up an armchair. Stuffing exploded from the rip and showered the antique chair. It had probably cost a fortune.

“Sorry,” Erik muttered, aghast at his loss of control.

It got him a mild smile, then his lover returned to his research texts. Erik knew he was being monitored in the least intrusive way, that Charles was ready to intervene should he do something really stupid, but he was too proud to give up. And too stubborn, something he always claimed Charles was.

After another fruitless hour he snarled a curse, flinging the metal parts all over the room in his rage. He was back to zero! He was at a stage that reminded him of the beginning of his development. His concentration was shot, his head felt like packed in wool, and it was a strain to manipulate several small objects.

Angry, actually close to furious, he left the room and Charles, forcing his tired body to walk. He was exhausted, but his mind was burning.

This wasn’t him! He wasn’t this wreck! He couldn’t be back to square one just because..

…because he had nearly died.

Erik trembled in suppressed emotions, breathing shallowly as his stomach muscles reminded him of the injury there.

His eyes fell on one of those strange works of art Charles’ parents had collected and displayed outside the manor. Metal. Big and heavy and rather ugly, but he was no art critic.

Something inside of him snapped, challenging him, egging him on to move the globe-like structure. The metal sang to him, taunting and teasing.

He flung out his hands, belatedly realizing that his left shoulder was still not fit to move abruptly. Pain spike through him and he yelled, but he didn’t stop. His power flowed through him and he willed the statue to rise.

It did. Trembling.

It was heavy.

It shouldn’t be this heavy!

Sweat broke out on his forehead and his jaw worked. He bared his teeth as he channeled as he could through him. At the globe.

It moved.

Rose.

His body shook under the strain and sweat broke out all over him. He channeled his rage, his helplessness, his pain… and it hurt. His shoulder blazed, his stomach muscles cramped, and with a cry Erik pushed the globe; hard.

It cracked against the stone vase not far away, shattering it, then crushed a female statue.

Erik collapsed, feeling weak and suddenly completely drained. His shoulder screamed at him, his stomach was a knotted mess, and he was bathed in sweat. It felt like someone had plunged a knife into parts of his body.

He screwed his eyes shut, managing the pain as he had so often before, shoving it into neat little compartments. Pain was nothing; pain was what he had experienced before.

Instinct screamed even louder and he looked up.

Charles, hands stuffed into his pockets, stood not far away. Watching. Waiting. There was a curious expression in his eyes, like a teacher waiting for a student to figure it out.

Erik looked away, one arm curled over his stomach as he knelt next to the destruction he had wrought. The anger was dissipating; the pain remained in the back of his mind. Charles suddenly crouched in front of him. Erik met the knowing, understanding eyes.

Physical warmth. Charles was physical warmth that close. Erik wanted nothing more than to lean into it, let himself sink into the softness of an embrace, but his stubbornness, rivaled only by a certain telepath’s, didn’t let him.

“Sorry about…,” he looked at the art he had destroyed, “that.”

Charles shrugged, not the least bit perturbed by the loss. Erik remembered the detachment he had shown to certain things in the house before. As if it wasn’t his possession, as if the destruction of such a valuable piece meant nothing at all.

“Ready?” he only asked, holding out a hand.

He took it and his lover helped him up. Pain shot through his body again and he cursed himself for leaning against the smaller man as he did.

Charles’ arm wrapped carefully around his waist and he pressed a quick kiss against one temple.

::Anger and serenity:: he murmured.

Erik laughed breathlessly. Anger and serenity. Yeah.

They went back into the manor, Charles not letting go of him. He hated to be so dependent. He hated to need assistance. He hated it.

Charles pressed his lips against the dark head.

::Give it time. Healing needs time::

He glared at Charles and got a mild smile in return. It was pure Charles. Erik chuckled, feeling warmth spread through him. As much as his weakness angered him, the way the anchor line was back in place filled him with pride.

Yes, healing needed time and his powers demanded physical strength as well. He had to be patient.

Patience had never been his strong point.

“Oh, but you have been patient, my friend,” Charles said, showing that the connection between them was pushing emotions and maybe thoughts across. “You were patient while hunting Shaw and his henchmen. You are patient with the children. And me. You have to learn to be patient with yourself and your body.”

Erik laughed softly. “Probably.”

They had arrived at their shared room without running into anyone. Erik let himself be guided to sit on the bed and Charles sat down next to him, giving him a sidelong glance.

“Got it out of your system?” he asked, voice holding that curious and mild quality.

“For now.”

The pain was still there. His shoulder felt like a huge knot and the stomach scars burned. Charles watched him, not even offering to call Hank or even Ceci. Erik felt tired and worn, but his mind wasn’t ready for his body to shut down. Charles smiled.

“Stop peeking.”

“Hard not to.”

The touch through the anchor line was warm and something he wouldn’t want to miss. Erik let his head sink onto his lover’s shoulder, sliding a hand over one thigh. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. He felt muscles relax and the pain became bearable.  
Charles interlaced their fingers.

He had to be patient. Just patient.

* * *

A week after the incident that had destroyed two very expensive works of art Charles was in his study, battling administrative matters. Running a private school was a lot of work and he had already looked into the possibility of hiring help in that regard. Harriet had offered to take over secretarial duties and one of her copies had soon started to clear up his overcrowded desk and he now had a very easy filing system. Whatever he paid the woman, it would never be enough.

“You pay me more than I’d make anywhere, Charles,” had been her reply when he had mentioned it. “And you give me the chance to work on my abilities. That’s enough.” She had given him a motherly pat on the arm and continued to clean up the office.

There was a knock and before he could say anything, the door was pushed open. Alex’s spiky blond head appeared.

“Uh, hey,” he said tentatively.

Charles gave him a welcoming smile. “What can I do for you, Alex?”

He tried not to read the younger man, but he caught a kind of faint worry.

“Uhm… I went downstairs to practice,” the teenager said, “to see if I could hone my skills, you know? But Erik was there first, and no way was I gonna ask him to leave...”

Charles felt his worry multiply. “What did he do?”

“You better see for yourself.” Alex shrugged.

Charles wasn’t sure what to expect, he had felt surges of adrenaline-fuelled energy from Erik, but nothing dangerous and he knew how frustrated Erik was with the long period of enforced inactivity he had only just been released from.

Alex’s expression had him worried as he jogged down the stairs, past the lower levels to the bunker in the basement. But whatever concerns he had had, he was surprised to see what could well have been every piece of stainless steel cutlery in the house sticking out from the walls of the bunker like a climbing wall for Spiderman, or maybe a huge piece of modern art.

In the middle of it all, Erik was sitting on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. Charles slightly cast out with his power. There were emotions, but Erik wasn’t in any kind of distress. He felt calm, calmer than he had in a long while and as Charles approached him, he realized that he was laughing.

::Erik?::

Crouching at his side, one hand at the top of his back, Charles looked into his lover’s face and smiled.

“Dinnertime will be interesting,” he commented, knowing for certain now that there hadn’t been any need for concern.

“Sorry,” Erik murmured, laughter subsiding. “I’ll put them all back. I’ll even straighten the ones that got bent.”

Charles shrugged. “They’re just knives and forks. Obviously they were needed more down here than they were in the kitchen.”

“And spoons.”

“Spoons?”

He looked upwards.

There was a cake fork twisted around a butter knife next to a dessert spoon, all embedded in the curved, concrete ceiling.

“Right. Did you have fun?”

Erik turned his head, looked at Charles and gave him an open smile. “Yes. I know it’s not a satellite dish or a submarine...”

Charles resisted the urge to kiss him. “You don’t have to prove yourself, Erik, you’ve already done that. Besides, you are still supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I’ve been taking it easy. Now I need to train, I need get back to where I was.”

“It wasn’t your gift that was damaged. Your injuries, Erik, were horrific. You need to accept that your body’s been hurt and let yourself heal before you push yourself too far.”

Erik made a twirling motion with one finger, smiling like a little kid at the fun fair when the cutlery followed his command, moving in complicated patterns through the room. Charles felt a surge of pride and love. He felt Erik’s elation, his happiness, the ease with which he finally accessed his powers. There was pain from aggravating the still sore wounds, but it was easily ignored.

Squeezing one shoulder he settled next to his lover, leaning against him as they were surrounded by countless knives, forks and spoons, forming a wall of shining metal around them. It was an almost heady feeling to experience Erik’s powers this way. Like a sugar rush. Like a rollercoaster ride. Like being Erik.

And seeing the smile, the absolutely happy smile… It gave Charles more than anything in the world.

::I love you:: he thought. ::So much::

Erik looked at him. The brilliant smile, the light in the gray eyes, the love he felt reflected in his mind. It was something special, something to be treasured, and he would never give it up. Never.

The other mutant leaned closer, catching a fleeting kiss. “I won’t ever give you up either, Charles Xavier.”

Charles didn’t care when the cutlery ended up in the wall again. He didn’t care that he might have to order a whole new set after this. Right now he only cared about the welfare of this one special person who meant the world to him.

* * *

He stood in front of the full length mirror, long fingers tracing the clear cuts across his abdomen, along his ribs, one ending just under his breast bone. They were scarring, red and still angry looking. The stitches had come out last week and the tiny scabs had fallen off. There was still nerve damage, areas that felt numb. It would heal, the sensation would come back. He had had wounds like that before.

Scary, but true. Only too true. Born in fire and rage, he had spread the damage as well as taken it. Those scars were just a few more to his collection.

Erik met his eyes in the mirror. Gray, intense, in a sharp cut face. Coldly analyzing his physical condition he knew he would fail the test. He wasn’t back into fighting condition and while his abilities hadn’t suffered, his endurance had.

Turning his right hand palm up, he let two metal balls the size of marbles settled just a fraction of an inch over his skin. With a simple thought he let his powers rise, the balls starting an intricate dance. It was so easy, so fluent, so clean and sharp. Everything metal sang to him, on different frequencies, different intensities, and he had honed these skills to near-perfection.

Until he had met Charles Xavier he had believed he was alone, that he had reached his limits.

After that night, in the freezing water, almost drowning in his search for vengeance, things had changed.

Grown.

Developed.

Evolution.

He had become so much more. Charles had unlocked a door inside of him, given him access to his full potential. He had never felt so much… all at his finger tips… able to raise ten thousands of pounds of metal… raising whole sub…

Because of Charles.

And he had surrendered to the other man, giving him everything, his trust, his body, mind and soul; his love.

Erik let his eyes fall on the mangled shoulder. It was healing. The skin was red and scabbed and the scars would be ugly. At least he could finally leave off the sling. And he was gaining muscles.

::Hm, nice:: a voice purred in his head.

He looked over his shoulder and curled his mouth into a smirk. Charles was leaning against the frame of the door, hands in his pockets, running appreciative eyes over the half-naked man.

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“And miss this?” The teasing light in his eyes was mixed with lust.

It made Erik shiver.

So far they had held back, mostly due to the fact that there hadn’t ever been an occasion when sex was pain-free for Erik. His stomach muscles would always protest and the limited mobility was a bitch. The occasional blow-job had taken the edge off, but even that involved more muscles than Erik had been happy with.

“Looking good,” Charles murmured as he pushed away from the door.

Erik watched him come closer, took in the suit jacket pants, the white shirt, the blue woolen sweater. Professor. Teacher. Harmless.

He grinned.

Far from it.

The door locked like in an afterthought. Charles raised his eyebrows.

He slid those soft hands over Erik’s skin, drawing a rush of need that seared through his mind. Soft hands, not like his own. No calluses. And clever.

He shivered as short nails scraped over his side, avoiding the scars.

“Charles…”

“I want you,” the telepath murmured.

Gentle pressure on his mind. Maddening fingers running over his back. That damn sweater and shirt and the pants… in his way. Erik felt a surge of want-need-lust and he kissed him hard. Teeth clicked together and Charles groaned against him, his desire trickling through the connection, pushing Erik nearly over the edge. So little and the effect was so great.

“Charles,” he groaned.

He so badly wanted this man. It was consuming him. Charles slid his hands flat over Erik’s skin, exploring the ridges and bumps of the new scars. Catching those hands Erik pushed his partner toward the bed, single-minded, needing-wanting more. Their kisses became more frantic, like it was their first time, and in a way it felt like it.

They tripped against the edge of the bed and fell onto the mattress, the soft luxury cushioning him. Charles laughed as he straddled Erik, knees either side of his hips, and in his movements Erik read the care he knew he needed but didn't want to be reminded of right then.

He reached up with his right hand and grabbed the back of Charles' neck, tangling his hair, growling, “Don’t treat me like a fragile doll, Charles,” before dragging his head down into another violent, vital kiss.

Charles sucked on his tongue, bit his bottom lip gently and pulled a fraction to promise in a scraping voice, “Believe me, I won’t. You’re far from it." Erik strained up to take his mouth again, and Charles went back down with him, keeping his weight supported by his hands. Frustrated at the knowledge that Charles was holding back by necessity, Erik wanted to scream, to grab him, yank him down bodily, flush with one another from mouth to cock. But he couldn't. He could feel his damaged stomach muscles protesting already and knew if Charles thought he was in any kind of pain he'd put an end to this immediately, no matter how it was to do.

So he let his anger go for the time being, let Charles kiss soak into him, slowed things down. He could feel his lover seeking a similarly intimate contact through the anchor line and realized that he probably needed it just as much as he needed the physical contact.

Erik understood, he needed it too, and he opened his mind completely. Just the way he had at the start, on the beach. He felt Charles, as real in his head as his body was under his hands, warm and sexy.

::I'm all yours, Charles. Mind, body and soul::

He felt a surge of arousal, accompanied by a moment of horror. When he worked it out, he didn’t try to hide his amusement.

"You can come."

He watched Charles' cheeks turn red. "I don't want to. Not yet."

::I'll just get you off twice::

::Stop it!::

In retaliation, Charles rebalanced his weight onto one hand and Erik felt his fingers against his ribs, his touch firm enough not to be ticklish, moving downwards until his fingernails scratched a light path down into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Erik slid his right hand over Charles' shoulder and grabbed his sweater. "Are you ever going to get naked?" he asked, wanting skin against skin, needing to touch, to feel.

Charles sat up, scooted back, pulled Erik's pants with him as he went. His cock sprang free into the warm air, and he watched Charles stare, watched him lick his lips.

"Strip, Xavier!"

As soon as he was naked, Charles crawled back over him, letting his erection knock against Erik's, sending sparks through his body which Charles let loose like fireworks in his head. He shivered, stomach tensing, the pain setting his teeth on edge.

::Erik...::

The warning in Charles tone, even in his mind, was clear. But he needed this more than he needed not to be in pain right now.

"Please, Charles," he wasn't above begging if he had to, but he knew Charles wouldn't allow that.

"You have to let me do all the work."

"All right, just... please get on with it!"

::You're such a romantic::

There was amusement underlying the words and it made Erik smile, made him relax, made him lift his hand and slide it into Charles wayward hair.

"Please."

Charles grinned, wriggled his hips and shifted backwards down the bed, lips snagging on Erik's nipples, running the tip of his tongue in a path downwards, skimming the edges of the deep indents of his vicious scars, making Erik's muscles twitch, causing tiny sparks of pain. It was impossible to keep Charles from feeling them, he didn't want that kind of separation ever again, but still he couldn’t help his frustration at not being able to keep them to himself.

Charles, to his surprise, didn't pause, but he heard, ::If I hurt you, Ceci will kill me::

"If you don't finish what you've started, I'll kill you."

He laughed, suddenly looking his young age instead of the aloof professor thing he had going most of the time. He was a beautiful sight stark naked, tongue sweeping over the head of Erik's cock, twinkling blue eyes rising to meet Erik's own before Charles went down on him in one graceful movement, swallowing his erection until its head hit the back of his throat.

He jerked once, and the pain of the involuntary movement stopped his almost embarrassingly quick climax.

::Charles... Charles. God, Charles....::

They had done this recently, a couple of blow jobs to take the edge off while Erik recovered sufficiently to do more. But Charles was very, very good at it and while he didn't want to imagine his lover with other men, he hoped whoever Charles had had his first experiences with had been appreciative and gentle. As if they could be anything Charles didn't want them to be.

::I want...::

He didn't need to finish the thought.

::Just getting you ready, my friend::

The old endearment slipped through their connection; Erik sucked in his stomach and used the pain again to stop his climax.

::I'm warning you...::

::Then get on with it!::

With a roll of his eyes, Charles lifted his head, scrambled back up to kiss Erik thoroughly, letting him taste himself in Charles' mouth. Then he surged up, reached back for Erik's cock and positioned him.

::Charles! Lub-::

He didn't have time to finish the thought before it was blown apart by the tight heat of Charles body bearing down on his erection. He clawed his fingers in the sheets, reached for Charles, clawed them on his legs, scratching his fair skin with his fingernails. Charles was setting a slow, agonizing rhythm, rising until just the tip of Erik's cock was inside him before dropping down again, controlling every movement, never taking his eyes from Erik's as he looped the exquisite pressure, the sensation of being fucked by Erik around back into Erik's mind.

Pleasure ran through every nerve, briefly obliterating the pain of tense muscles, and as Charles dropped, Erik drove up to meet him, burying himself until his balls pressed against the sweat damp heat of his lover's ass. Charles yelled his name and Erik watched his cock, untouched, let loose a fountain of white cum, ribbons of it streaking the scars across his stomach. The sight alone was enough, but Charles' orgasm mirrored in his mind and the clench of his muscles sent Erik flying after him, spending himself deep inside Charles' body, clutching his legs, moaning ever more softly as he sank down into the bed, forcing his eyes open again, wanting to watch every nuance of expression in his lover's face as they came down from the high.  
Making love to Charles had always been something incredible, something unique and precious.

::Any telepath...::

When their minds were as connected as their bodies, every thought belonged to them both.

::No. Not any telepath. Not anyone else, ever again. Just you::

He felt the spike of sated desire his words engendered; Charles was so easy, got hard from a simple kiss, or from words alone if they were the right ones. He slid his hands up to Charles' hips and pulled him down, wanting him on top but knowing he wouldn't be allowed that. Instead, Charles rolled into his side, one leg staying across Erik's thighs, one arm over his chest. Erik turned his head and kissed him.

"Do you mean that?" he whispered, and Erik was struck by the uncertainty in his voice.

After everything they'd been through, he hadn't thought it possible that Charles would still not realize how deep this went for him.

"I mean it, Charles. How can there ever be anyone else? How can anyone else ever touch the bar you've set? You have my heart, Charles. You have my mind. You have my soul."

Charles didn't have to respond with words, Erik could feel everything he felt through the anchor connecting them; it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever felt.

Eventually he fell asleep wrapped in it, with Charles snoring softly at his side.


	13. Chapter 13

  


  
They had taken a time out from the school and Westchester in general. At the urging of several of their friends, and some not so subtle ass-kicking from Raven, who had been fed up with the ups and downs of both men’s tempers.

“Go. Anywhere but Shadowside Creek! If you’re back before the end of next week, I’ll personally beat your asses back there!”

Erik had taken the hint and dragged his lover away. Charles had protested, claimed there were appointments he had to keep for the school, as well as other things to do. It had fallen on deaf ears. Especially since Raven had told him in no uncertain terms that she was perfectly capable of doing it, with the help of the others. New mutants had to wait. They could go out and meet whoever he wanted to next months, but right now they both had to be away. Nothing to distract either man.

So they had gone.

Erik had to hold back a smile when he looked around the luxurious penthouse suite Charles had claimed had been the only free room at this five-star New York hotel in mid-town Manhattan. Erik knew a lie when he heard it, and that had been a very outrageous lie. But who was he to complain?

One bedroom with a kingsize bed, an entertainment room, a bathroom with a circular whirlpool tub, their own kitchen, an open fireplace… and the front was windows only, giving them an unrivalled view of the city and Central Park. No one could look in.

Erik felt something primal inside of him claw its way out of the depth of want and need. The way Charles suddenly looked over his shoulder, blue eyes darker than normal, he had caught the gist of things. He licked his lips and Erik was close to just throwing him against the wall and having his way with him.

Privacy was the hotel’s uppermost service. They would be on their own unless they sent for housekeeping. The fridge was full, the fireplace stocked, and – Erik checked and grinned toothily – the door locked and secure.

“I thought we could sight-see a little,” Charles said, the words not really registering with the other mutant.

It had been too long. Too long reaffirming what they were. Too long that he had been able to move freely with his shoulder and stomach. The few times they had been together had been marked by careful moves and holding back.

Not this time.

“Fuck sight-seeing,” Erik growled and pulled his lover close, feeling the slender form flush against him. “We’re not leaving this room.”

“No?” Charles teased, brows rising playfully.

“No,” was the decisive reply.

Erik dipped his head to playfully nip at Charles’ neck and it drew an appreciative sound.

The telepath caught his lips in a hard kiss. Those lips shot fire through him. The need was rising like a tidal wave and while he tried not to drown in it, it was impossible to escape. Erik let himself be pulled in, his hands roaming over his lover, and he lost himself in the warmth that rose with it.

* * *

Erik tried to hide his amusement when they found a mutant among the hotel personnel. He had seen him while taking a swim early in the morning. Charles had been asleep, mumbling about godawful hours and Erik’s unhealthy need to train his body, but he did enjoy that body, as Lensherr reminded him.

::I do:: had been the sleepy reply.

And Erik had to get his mobility back.

::Flexible:: Charles sent, satisfaction and pleasure and eddies of last night lapping at Erik’s mind.

He had nearly not gone then. But looking at the still so red marks, the scars on his mauled shoulder, had convinced him that he had to work on rebuilding more than just one kind of flexibility.

Early morning sex got a rain-check since his telepath lover wasn’t even really awake and showed no intention of rousing. So he had gone down to the hotel pool and swam his laps. His shoulder had protested at first, but he had bit through the faint pain, had ignored the stiffness, and soon things had been more fluid.

When he had finally left the pool at seven he had seen the young man picking up left behind towels and straightening chairs. He had been checking him out secretly and Erik’s amusement had risen with each look.

Charles had picked up on that when he had returned, hair still wet, smelling of pool water.

“Not my type,” Erik had replied playfully. “Too young, not geeky enough.”

“You’re saying I’m old?” had been the outraged response.

“Hm, interesting what you find important in one sentence. And no, you’re not old, Charles.”

The shower sex had been far from sleepy. Actually, Erik mused, riled-up, slightly jealous Charles was frighteningly sexy and teasing. That blow-job had left him weak-kneed and out of breath.

That Charles had discovered that the young hotel employee was actually a mutant came two hours later when they had run into him again outside the hotel. Charles had insisted that they at least take a brief sight-seeing tour and Erik had caved.

The moment Charles’ eyes had widened, settled on the young man, Erik had scratched sight-seeing off their list. They wouldn’t get anywhere today.

 

 

 

Brian Helfert was twenty-two, a New Yorker born and bred, and he had the ability of super-sight. He could see tiny particles, right down to the components of a blood drop or a chemical. His smell was enhanced as well, but not as incredibly as his sight. Charles had been excited to meet him and the rest of the day had been spent talking, explaining the Xavier Institute, inviting Brian to come by if he wanted to.

With the Institute’s business card in hand, Brian had parted ways and gone home. Charles had been smiling with the pleasure of their discovery and the excitement of the mutation all the way back to their room, sight-seeing tour long forgotten. It was too late today anyway and Erik wasn’t in the mood to handle the NY night crowd.

“He has one enhanced sense that he can control and another that is above average!” the scientist gushed. “I’m sure he has the ability to enhance all senses! He only needs training, a way to focus on his potential…”

Erik, who had only been there as a silent listener, trying not to scare off Brian who had been shooting him little glances, only smiled at his enthusiastic partner. Charles rambling on and on about abilities and senses gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling. He was adorable when he was in full science mode.

Hell, he was always adorable.

“Heard that?” he chuckled when Charles stopped talking and cast him a side-long glance.

“Hard not to. You are very focused on me, my friend.”

Erik kicked the door shut behind them, pulling Charles toward him, hands curled into the woolen jacket.

“In a good way,” Charles added, voice low. “So, that’s the boy who checked you out?”

“Hm,” Erik answered, busy peeling Charles out of his clothes.

“Can’t fault his taste.”

A woolen sweater was tossed across the room and Erik frog-marched Charles toward the couch that stood right in front of the large windows.

“You’re a mutant magnet,” Erik rumbled and pushed Charles onto the wide couch, kneeling over him. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

Charles pulled him down, devouring his mouth. It made Erik’s toes curl.

::You can take me everywhere:: the telepath said and the images accompanying the ambiguous words were crystal clear.

Erik cursed, his reaction immediate, and the sudden surge of wantlustneed almost overpowered him. That Charles looked smug and half-undressed, showing enough skin to tease, not enough to be enough, didn’t help.

::Playing with fire:: he managed, mind-voice harsh and sharp.

::Let it burn:: Charles only said.

 

Later Erik was glad that the penthouse was taking over the whole floor because they weren’t bothering any neighbors. Things had gotten rather… loud and exciting. He felt sore and from the looks of it, Charles wasn’t inclined to move any time soon. Room service it had to be.

Tracing lazy lines over the smooth back, stopping to caress the bumps of the four year old scar, Erik listened to the hums of pleasure through the bond. He didn’t ask if Charles was okay. He knew it. They hadn’t been rough, just intense. Very, very intense.

Which was the reason for the soreness.

Charles cracked an eye open, smiling as he caught eddies of Erik’s thoughts. ::Pleasurably sore:: he murmured.

Erik leaned closer, kissing and nipping a line from the back of his lover’s neck down the spine, long fingers spreading over his lower back.

::I hope you don’t expect another round?:: Charles sent, amusement tingeing his mind-voice.

Erik stretched out half over the other man, left arm curled over the ribcage, resting his face against one shoulder.

::Not now. Later::

Charles only hummed, eyes sliding shut, a warm weight of comfortable presence in Erik’s mind. The anchor line was back to its old strength and it was like finally being able to use his injured shoulder again.

 

Later it was.

Reaffirming themselves, their connection, their emotions. Everything. Erik looked into the liquid blue eyes, intense and deep and filled with such raw hunger for him, he wanted to sink into Charles and stay there forever.

* * *

They came home two days later, well-rested, completely at peace with themselves, and one look at them had Raven smile widely.

“I don’t want details,” she said, hugging her brother.

“I never kiss and tell, Raven.”

Erik snorted, suppressing his laughter.

“But I want to know how you managed to find Brian,” she finished.

“He called?” Charles asked excitedly.

“He actually arrived late last night, handing over your business card, and we gave him a room. Said he was at the hotel you two stayed in.”

“Yes, that he was. I’m surprised he made up his mind so fast. He’s an extraordinary young man.”

“Charles met him after Mr. Helfert checked out my ass,” Erik supplied unhelpfully.

Raven stared, eyes wide, then burst out laughing. Charles shot his lover a scowl, but Erik simply grinned widely.

“Hey, what? It’s the truth. The kid was checking out my ass.”

Xavier only shook his head and pushed past his still laughing sister. He had a new school member to greet.

* * *

The return to Shadowside Creek was subject to long and hard arguments, telepathic, vocal or otherwise. Erik was making a good case against it, but so was Charles for it. In the end the metalbender threw up his hands.

“Fine! You get sliced up this time!”

Charles fought to calm himself. He had gone up against a lot of people, politicians, military, CIA, other mutants, but only Erik got him so worked up. Maybe it was their closeness. Maybe it was just the fact that Erik knew which buttons to push.

And he pushed them hard.

“It won’t come to that!” he said with forced calm.

“Because we did so brilliantly last time?” Erik’s whole body radiated contained fury. “That thing came out of nowhere and attacked for no reason, Charles! I have never, NEVER, seen anything like that. Ever! Azazel couldn’t harm it either! I doubt an explosion would rip it apart!”

“And I’m just a simple telepath with no offensive powers?” was the quiet reply.

Erik froze, staring. He clenched and unclenched his hands.

“Erik, I felt something there. Not the creature. It’s a projection, a protection against… us.”

“So we take the hint and leave this one alone, Charles!”

“You saw the little girl…”

Erik hissed and Charles became aware of the letter opener spinning wildly.

“I saw her, yes. I saw her and if she’s the one who did this…” The letter opener swooshed past them and buried deep into the wood paneling. “If she is the one, leave her there, Charles!”

“If it was you, scared and alone, wouldn’t you want to know someone out there wants to help?” Charles asked softly.

Erik bared his teeth and slammed his hands down onto the desk. “I was that kid, Charles! No one came!”

The lamp and chair buckled as if someone had stepped on them and Erik drew back, forcefully reigning in his powers. He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it tousled.

“I was there, Charles,” he repeated.

“I know. And if I had known back then, I would have come.”

“You were just a kid yourself.”

Charles closed the distance, uncaring of the dangerous vibes rolling off his lover. Erik had never hurt him and he trusted him completely.

“You know what I mean,” he said softly, reaching out to squeeze one shoulder. “I want to try this. One more time. Maybe the girl is just another illusion and the mutant is someone completely different. But whoever it is, he’s afraid of strangers. He hides…”

“And wards off all attempts at contact!”

Charles watched as Erik unconsciously held his scarred abdomen, curling his left arm around his stomach area. He placed his hand onto the left wrist, squeezing gently.

::We won’t be unprepared this time::

::Planning to take a whole army with you?::

The telepath smiled. ::No. More force means more fear. But I can find the mutant from a distance. I don’t have to go inside the cabin.::

“And you’re not going alone,” Erik insisted. His voice held a sharp edge.

“You don’t have to come.”

“And you can’t keep me here.”

Charles smiled. “No. I already asked Azazel and Riptide. They agreed to come. No aggression, only defense.”

Erik snorted. “Big red guy with a tail and swords. Yeah, right.”

Charles interlaced their fingers. “We’ll be fine.”

* * *

The trip to Shadowside Creek had actually taken no time at all. Azazel had teleported them to the still deserted ski resort. Erik had more knives and other metallic weapons on his body than ever before. He felt each blade against his skin, like an extension of his very self. Charles had not commented on his arsenal, but he also hadn’t told him to leave the weapons at home.

Standing between the ski cabins, Charles looked into the direction of the place where Erik had nearly died. He had two fingers pressed against his left temple, concentrating. Erik watched him, saw the brief flare of pain in his eyes as he closed in on the location of the creature.

“It’s still there,” the telepath said after a moment. “The mutant. I can feel the presence.”

“And the creature?” Azazel wanted to know, blades ready.

“I couldn’t see it before either. But the mutant is there.”

Erik nodded at the red-skinned teleporter and Azazel disappeared, rematerializing in a tree high above the cabin.

Charles squared his shoulders and looked at Erik. “Let’s go,” he said.

He would keep scanning, broadcasting their good intentions, that they weren’t the enemy. Erik flexed his fingers, again touching all those metal objects on his body, cataloguing everything around him, on Charles and Riptide, as well. Riptide was carrying a few hidden weapons as well and he gave Erik a knowing grin.

Then they were off.

* * *

The cabin hadn’t lost anything of its horror movie charm. In daylight it looked no better than at dusk or at night. Now you could see just how much in disrepair it was. Anyone who might ever consider buying this land would have to tear this thing down.

Charles was looking hard at the wooden ruin, two fingers again at his temple once again. Erik placed a hand on his shoulder when the telepath suddenly grimaced as if in pain. Then Charles hissed, doubling over.

“Charles!”

The telepath grabbed the offered arm and straightened up.

“It’s incredible,” he breathed. “Like fractured. Into parts. It’s one person, but… different energies. Auras…” He shook his head, annoyed at himself. “It’s hard to describe. I feel like I’m bouncing around one mind, always deflected because it’s spreading and contracting.”

“There’s only one?” Erik clarified.

“Yes.”

“And you can’t tell who it is? Man? Woman? Really a child?”

“No.” Charles’ annoyance rising. “It’s there. And it’s… apprehensive. Afraid.”

Riptide flexed his fingers, at the ready.

::We mean no harm:: Charles sent, again having the eerie feeling of his words getting fractured inside the mind of the mutant he was reaching.

Multiple personalities? Schizophrenic?

“I have to try to go around this,” he murmured, reaching for Erik to anchor himself.

The reestablished connection felt still new and too thin for his liking. But he had to do it.

“Erik?”

His lover looked far from happy. Actually, he looked ready to kill something should anything come out of that cabin.

::It’ll be okay:: Charles tried to soothe him.

::No. It isn’t. This thing’s here and it’s waiting::

Charles inhaled deeply, trying to center himself, then brought up his focus once more. Two fingers against the temple. His eyes fixed on the cabin while his mind raced toward the mutant inside, dodging the many one-way streets it tried to create. He felt like a pin ball.

::Please:: he begged. ::We only want to help. I know you never meant any harm, that you defended yourself against a threat. Let’s just talk, okay?::

But the presence was evasive, throwing up blocks, never staying still. For a fraction of a second he caught sight of the girl again, then…

“Charles!”

His concentration was shattered when Erik grabbed him and pulled him aside. Charles was thrown to the ground and rolled over wet leaves and sharp stones. He heard the roar and knew he had made a mistake.

Riptide let lose two miniature tornados before Charles could tell him not to. The creature was picked up and blown back, crashing into the trees.

And it was back. Suddenly. Like popping into existence. It swiped at them and Erik threw his hands forward, knives cutting into the thing, making it snarl and lunge at him.

::NO!!:: Charles screamed. ::DON’T!::

Erik buried two knives into the eyes of the thing, but it only stopped it for a second.

A second was all Azazel needed, grabbing the other mutant and teleporting him away while Riptide again lifted the monster.

Charles scrambled back, then got to his feet and made a run for the cabin.

::Charles, no!” Erik yelled in his head.

He dove into the stench and rot and dampness, looking around.

And the monster howled, suddenly right there and impossibly fitting into the small room.

“Please!” Charles shouted. “Please, listen to me! We don’t want to hurt you!”

Azazel appeared behind him and he felt the nearness of Erik, sensed his fury at Charles’ stunt, felt the terror creeping into his lover’s mind at facing what had nearly killed him.

::PLEASE!::

The monster growled, briefly freezing like a bad TV picture, then its head turned, snarling at Charles.

“Please,” Charles repeated. “We only want to talk.”

And he saw her. The girl. Maybe ten, maybe even younger. Straight hair, dark blond, falling to her waist. Her face was expressionless, her eyes huge in comparison, and she was dressed in worn clothes. No holes, no rags, but old. She was holding… a rabbit. It looked almost like a plush toy, but it was moving. The ears, floppy and soft looking, twitched and the button eyes moved. It hung in her grip as if it weighed nothing.

And it was impossibly real and surreal in one.

Erik’s hand touched the small of Charles’ back, supportive, but also the connection Azazel needed to get them out of here.

“Hello,” Charles said softly.

The girl looked at them. The monster growled, flexing its talons.

::I… I can’t focus on her:: the telepath whispered, shock and awe mingling in his voice. ::She’s there. But she’s also in those two projections::

Erik curled his fingers into the fabric of Charles’ coat. ::Charles…::

::No, please, wait::

His lover made an unhappy noise.

The monster bared long, razor-sharp teeth.

“Can you talk?” Charles asked. “My name is Charles. These are Erik and Azazel.”

No reaction. The face remained that of a puppet; expressionless.

The monster ducked down, rumbling more.

“Charles…”

“Not yet.”

He raised his left hand to his temple, focusing again. The girl was clearly the mutant, but she was slipping through his grasp like water.

::She protects herself, Erik. With these projections. I believe they are her fear and comfort::

::Those things are very real, Charles::

::I know!::

And he was fascinated. The scientist in him was trying to find the reason as to why she was able to do this, what her abilities entailed.

“Do you live here? Are your parents here?” Charles wanted to know.

It was the wrong thing to say. The monster roared and then lunged at them. It only sliced into red dust dissipating in thin air as Azazel had reacted within a split second.

They rematerialized outside and Charles looked pale and shocked. Again he cast out his psychic powers, trying to reach the girl, but the surge of her own gift slammed right back into him, making him double over with a cry.

The creature was in front of them and Riptide’s defensive move threw up rocks and ground and uprooted trees, battering the monster with it. It was driven back and the cabin rattled dangerously.

Charles blinked tears out of his eyes, became aware of strong arms around his waist, holding him against the hard body of his lover, and he tried it again. And again.

“Charles, stop!” Erik commanded sharply, voice cold and furious. “She doesn’t want to talk. She’ll kill us!”

“She’s a child!” he argued, tears staining his face.

“You don’t know that!”

The screech of the creature was ear-shattering and Riptide was hard pressed to fend it off this time.

It was adapting.

“Damn!” Erik snarled. “We’re leaving! Azazel!”

“NO!”

But he couldn’t struggle out of the tight hold. Erik’s embrace was like a steel brace holding him in place.

::Erik, no!::

::Stop it!:: the other man commanded, voice so cold it washed over Charles with a sobering clarity. ::She doesn’t want us here. Get the point, Charles!::

He stilled, gripping the arm holding him. If he wanted to, he could command Erik to let him go, but he had never done this to his lover and he never would. Closing his eyes, Charles took a steadying breath, felt along the anchor line and found the tightly coiled fury rushing through Erik, wanting to break free, wanting to tear the creature apart.

But nothing could destroy the projection.

“We’re leaving,” Erik told Azazel, who had dropped down in a crouch next to them.

Charles reached for the teleporter’s mind, sending the request as to where to take them. Azazel’s unnaturally lightly colored eyes narrowed, but he did as requested.

Erik’s anger was like a living, breathing thing when he realized they had only gone as far as the edge of the trees.

“Charles…!”

He squeezed the other man’s arm, stilling the protest. Charles got to his feet, swaying a little. His head ached, but it was so normal, so expected, he didn’t care.

There was a dangerous rumble and they found the monster staring at them from among the trees. The girl was next to it, still holding the rabbit.

::We’re leaving:: Charles sent, looking into her large eyes. ::If that is what you wish. But we never meant any harm. There are others like you at my school. Don’t you want to meet them?::

She hugged the bunny close and showed the first sign of understanding. She shook her head.

Charles fought down a wave of disappointment.

::Can I come back one day? I would like to get to know you better::

The monster growled and moved between the girl and the four men. Erik tensed, his hold on Charles never wavering.

“Charles, we’re leaving now,” he whispered harshly.

He didn’t argue. Riptide grabbed Azazel’s hand, the teleporter clamping a hand on Erik’s shoulder. Before they blinked out of existence, Charles saw the monster turn into what looked like a plush pony with wings, then there was nothing any more.

* * *

Erik watched his lover as Charles sat at his work desk, staring at the same piece of paper he had been staring at an hour ago. Arms crossed in front of his chest he shook his head.

“Charles.”

The other man looked up, startled.

“You’re doing it again,” Erik chided.

“I was just…” He looked at the page and sighed, pushing whatever it was he had been reading away.

“You were thinking about the girl.”

Charles shrugged.

Erik walked over to him, perching himself onto the edge of the desk. “Not every mutant wants to be found. Not every mutant we find wants to listen. You know that, Charles.”

He nodded.

“And she isn’t the first to decline an invitation. She’s just the first who reacted this badly.”  
Erik just about caught himself from curling an arm around his stomach again. It was still an unconscious gesture that he couldn’t quite control.

“I know that, Erik.”

“But…?” he prodded, already knowing the answer.

“She’s a child!”

“You don’t know that.”

“If she is, she’s all alone out there, Erik!”

“She chose that life. She doesn’t want anyone, Charles. You saw it. You tried and it didn’t work.”

The blue eyes reflected an infinite sadness. “Yes.”

“It’s one failure, Charles. Don’t let it get you down. It won’t be your last.”

Charles smiled crookedly. “Not much of a pep talk, Erik.”

“Wasn’t aiming for one. You can’t save them all.”

The telepath pushed away from the desk and stepped between Erik’s legs. The kiss was warm and explorative, relaying so much without many words. Erik trailed a gentle path of kisses across his eyes, his forehead, then found that special spot at his neck.

Charles grabbed his shirt and tilted back his head. Erik chuckled and teethed the spot, then went back to kissing him senseless.

::Nice technique:: Charles sent.

Erik chuckled, gray eyes filled with warmth.

The sound of the door opening had Charles glance over his shoulder.

“Uh, okay,” Hank stuttered. “I guess…” He frowned. “Lock the door next time!” And he pulled it shut with a lot more force than necessary.

Charles buried his head against Erik’s chest, muffling his laughter. Erik snorted, amusement reflecting in his eyes.

“I think he has a point,” he commented, locking the door with a flick of his finger. “Now, where were we?”

  
fin!

  
... and yes, there will be more. We have yet to tackle the identity of the girl and so much more... The sequel is still in the works.


End file.
